Blue Fire Part II
by Kassi
Summary: Sequel to 'Blue Fire.' How will Reno cope - or fail to - when he loses the love of his life? Rated for swearing, drug use, violence and adult content.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Final Fantasy VII, Chrono Trigger, Chrono Cross, and their characters, places, and situations are (C) copyright Square Enix. They are reproduced here for non-commercial entertainment. All other material is mine.

"In the real world, things are very different. You just need to look around you; nobody wants to die that way. People die of disease and accident. Death comes suddenly, and there is no notion of good or bad. It leaves, not a dramatic feeling, but a great emptiness. When you lose someone you love very much you feel this big empty space and think: 'if I had known this was coming, I would have done things differently.'" —Yoshinori Kitase, director/scenario planner, FFVII

* * *

**_Reno_**

I woke up on the worst day of my life whistling. I made eggs for one. I cleaned the kitchen. I sauntered down to climb in my little red hotter-than-hot rod and head to work. The souped-up engine sounded like a pack of restrained murderous cuahls, and limit-break-rainbow flames licked out of the tailpipe. Nothing if not flashy, like me.

I stopped off at Seventh Heaven along the way to hear the buzz from Tifa. Bartenders are the biggest gossips, swear to god, and since Cloud is apparently never gonna come around and start banging her, she's got too much time on her hands.

"Hey, Reno," said Tifa. "She's coming home today, huh?"

"Couldya tell?" I said innocently. I knew I was beaming fit to break my face.

She laughed. "I have got to play poker with you sometime. You're even easier to read than Yuffie, I swear!"

"Word to the wise—don't play with Rude," I warned her.

She rolled her eyes. "_Now_ you tell me. Where were you a month ago with this information? Talk about a poker face!"

I laughed. "Bad as Cloud, ain't he?"

"Oh, nearly." She shook her head.

"How is Blondie, anyway?"

"Hell if I know. He and Denzel were in Wutai, last I heard, but that was a week ago. Reeve's got them running all over the place too."

"It's like we have to clear it with him if we want to see our friends," I said, irritated. "I know the world needs 'em, but so do we, right? There's only so much to go around."

"And you're possessive and jealous," she teased.

"Damn right I am. You would be too, if she was your girl." I realized what I'd just said and my mind slammed into that mouthwateringly sexy image at full tilt. My mouth hung open as I stared into my wonderful, vivid imagination. "Ohh…"

She punched me in the shoulder. "Down, boy!"

"Ow, hey!" I skipped backward, rubbing my tender flesh. "You don't pull your punches!"

She smiled sweetly at me. "You can defend yourself."

"Not against you, lady." I shook my head. "Learned that lesson hard, not gonna do it again."

"Aww, is widdle Weno still sore he lost to a girl?"

"I'm not fighting with you. I want to keep my balls intact, thank you very much."

"Well, take your balls and scoot. I've got work to do, and so do you. Hey, tell Schala to drop by later—I haven't seen her in ages, it seems."

"Me either," I muttered. "Later, Tif."

* * *

"Damn it, Reno, that was the director's!" Elena cried, bending to pick up the teacup I'd inadvertently knocked out of her hands as I jostled her elbow jogging past. "What is your damage today?!"

"Same as always," muttered Rude, over by the copier.

"I'm trying to get outta here as fast as I can, Elena," I said, leaning over my computer, eyes flicking. I couldn't even stand still, shifting from foot to foot. "I'm already late, I was supposed to be gone an hour ago. It's our anniversary tomorrow. We're leaving tonight for Costa del Sol."

"Didn't even bother to invite me," Rude said in a mock-hurt tone.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, incredulous. "You wanna stay in the next room over from us when we haven't seen each other in two weeks?"

He snorted, shaking his head at the copier.

"You're like a dog in heat," said Elena, wiping up the spill on the carpet.

"Sorry you're jealous, Elena, but there just ain't enough Reno to go around," I said, clicking through all the copies of WRO-Shinra inter-office memos. _Shit shit shit, why the hell does Tseng gotta copy me on everything today?!_ I thought. _I don't need to read _any_ of this! …Whoa, hey, except that._

I sighed explosively and pulled up my files on munitions requisitions for coal mining in North Corel. We'd been desperately trying to transition from Shinra's stopgap measure of falling back on coal while prospecting for oil, now that the Northern Continent had started giving up gallons of rich flammable juice. Shinra's munitions department was all me, up top, and that was the way I liked it. Except today.

"No, no, no! You're over your limit, guys!" I snarled, having to sit down to compose a less-aggressive and longer email version of this.

"Hey, shh!" said Elena, and cranked the WRO news broadcast that until now had been a low murmur in the background.

"Keep it down, tryin' to work here!" I snapped.

"_Shh_!" Elena insisted.

I spun my chair around, infuriated, then heard the terse words of the anchor: "…that an airship has crashed north of Corel in a largely uninhabited valley. We have no word yet on any survivors. The WRO is working to deploy damage control teams from Rocket Town and is expected to release a statement within the hour…"

"Reno, Rude, Elena, with me," said the director, striding past the open door of our operations center.

I stumbled after him in a daze, trailing Elena. I tried so hard not to think the information my brain was urgently trying to put together. _If I put it into words, it might become real._ Rude grasped my shoulder as Tseng knocked on the president's door, between his two bodyguards at the end of the hall.

"You okay?" said Rude.

I stared up at him, out of sorts. "Uh… yeah…"

There was no more time; the door opened and we went in. Rufus was on speakerphone and beckoned us all in. I leaned against the wall, folding my arms protectively around myself, frowning. My mind felt like a blank dark hole out of which no thoughts escaped.

"…Yes, of course, only I'd like to know when we can mobilize air units," Rufus was saying. "We have almost no presence on that continent and no vehicles to speak of are currently deployed there. The sub is west of Wutai with a skeleton crew and won't do much good, although I have radioed them to stand by."

"Uh… I have no information at this time," said a voice on the other end, nearly drowned out by a cacophony of intermingled raised voices. "This directive came directly from President Tuesti. Until we are certain that whatever happened to the _Elmyra_…"

I sagged against the wall, all breath leaving me. Schala's voice rang in my brain: _"I'm taking the _Elmyra_ tomorrow at two, and should be home in time to grab a quick bite before our flight to Costa del Sol…"_

"…will not occur again," continued the voice, though I barely heard the words over my memory, "all air traffic is to remain grounded for public safety concerns."

"I'm not talking about the public, I'm talking about putting military in a helicopter. They're trained to risk their lives," said the president, his voice still fucking even and calm.

"No, Mr. President—no air traffic. Not even military," said the voice.

At this point, without realizing it, I'd sunk to the floor, my hands buried in my hair. I stared at the president, mouth open, nothing to say.

"Then at the moment there's little Shinra can offer in terms of assistance," said Rufus. "I suggest you get that ban lifted as soon as possible or you're going to have trouble even reaching the crash site. Time may be of the essence for any survivors."

My head lifted. _Survivors! Of course! She can survive anything! The Lifestream heals her!_ I scrambled off the floor.

"Yes, sir…" the voice on the other hand said distractedly.

"Keep me advised," said Rufus, and pushed a button to hang up. He lifted his eyes to the director.

"I'm sure you've heard the news," the president said evenly. "I'm putting you all on standby and I want you on the chopper pad and ready to depart. PHS circuits are jammed so we'll have to keep in contact on the emergency channels. All your phones are equipped for the switch and someone in tech is monitoring our network. We need to prepare search and rescue teams to augment the WRO's, and Tseng, if we have any ground support on the western continent, we need them moving by any means possible. Chocobos, if necessary."

"Sir, Cloud's got a gold chocobo stabled at Chocobo Farm," said Elena. "It's not fast, but it's faster than the sub."

Rufus shook his head. "Carries a maximum of two? I don't think we need bother."

"What about the cargo ship?" I said.

"In dry dock," said Rufus. "With all the airships in service it's getting a much-needed overhaul."

"God _damn_ it," I hissed. I felt Rude's hand on my shoulder again and flung it off, frustrated. "I'll take that fucking chocobo, I just need to_get_ there!"

The director and president both looked at me with blank stares.

"_Please_, sir!" I said, appealing to both equally.

"Reno, I have the utmost respect for your abilities, but I'm unconvinced you can mount an entire rescue operation on your own," said the president carefully.

"_Schala was on that ship_!" I shouted.

Elena gasped. Rufus and Tseng exchanged raised-eyebrow looks.

"Sir, let him go," Tseng said quietly.

"Rude, go with him," said the president.

I whirled and slammed out of the door, racing down the hall, heart pounding, not caring if Rude could keep up or not. I banged into the stairwell. I leaped down two flights before I realized how stupid this was, spun around on the stair and started charging back up. Rude reared out of my way, almost pitching over the rail.

I pounded all the way up to the roof and drew out my Electro-Mag Rod, snapping it to its full impressive length. I charged at the nearest helicopter. A couple of Shinra soldiers lounging around and smoking spotted me and rushed over.

"Sir, what's happening?" called one of them.

"Special mission," I said, stepping up to haul open the cockpit door. "We're flying under the radar today. There's a lockdown on air travel except for us, so don't let anyone know we've gone or it'll be your asses hung out to dry."

"_Reno_!" Rude climbed up after me. He gripped my arm so hard it hurt. "Don't be an idiot!"

"Why not?!" I yelled. "It's one of the _best_ things I do! You can either shut the fuck up and come with…" I engaged my EMR and turned my full glare on him, starting the chopper, "or stay here. What's it gonna be?"

"You can't disobey the director and the president," hissed Rude.

"Watch me!"

"God damn it, Reno! We never disobey orders! _Never_! This is bigger than you, bigger than both of us, bigger than any one person! And we can still get there without breaking rules!"

"Yeah, maybe too late!" I snarled.

"She ain't gonna die, Reno. You _know_ that. Even Sephiroth couldn't kill her."

"You don't know that for sure, and neither do I! I'm tired of this conversation!" I raised the EMR. "Don't make me use this, partner!"

Rude swung a rifle up to level at my head. I gaped at him.

"You _can't_ be serious!" I said.

He shifted the sights so it aimed at my left arm, point-blank range. "Don't do this, Reno."

"I'm gonna murder you," I whispered.

He freed one hand to reach out and turn the chopper ignition to off. "Come on. Step on out. We can wait here on the roof and take the first chopper out with Tseng and Elena, or go get that chocobo. Up to you, partner."

I leaned over in the seat and dug my fingers into my scalp. My eyes squeezed shut. I couldn't think. Seconds were racing by, precious seconds. I glanced up at Rude, heart in my throat.

"What do I do?" I said, my breath hitching. "Help me out. How do I get to her the fastest?"

He lowered the rifle. "I'm sure the air travel restriction won't last long. Just sit tight and be patient."

I laughed angrily. "I'm a lot of things, but I am _not_ patient! GOD!" I slammed my skull into the metal doorframe and winced. My head spun. I reached up to rub my temple.

"Easy," said Rude. "Scoot the fuck over, I'm not letting you fly this thing when we get clearance."

I did so, moodily. "She's gonna be all right, right?"

"Nine lives," said Rude, pulling on a headset.

"What the fuck _happened_?" I said.

Rude reached out and flipped on the radio, tuning it to the news broadcast.

"Oh, come _on_! They're at least twenty minutes behind!" I said.

"Got a better idea?" he said.

"Yeah, hold on." I pulled out my PHS, flipped it open, and checked the emergency line. I had to look up the extension. It rang through six times before a sort-of-familiar voice picked up. "_Heyyyy_, Uma!" My attempt at nonchalance fell painfully flat, even to my ears.

"Who _is_ this?" said the harried-sounding Shinra employee on the other end.

"Reno," I said, surprised. "Don't pretend you've forgotten me."

"I don't have time for this. I'm _really_ busy…" said Uma.

"That's why I'm calling. I need updates," I said. I spotted Tseng and Elena crossing the pad to us. "I need to know how close that air travel ban is to being lifted. I need to know everything known about what happened to the Elmyra, and I need to know about the search and rescue effort."

"Turn on the damned news, then!" She hung up on me.

"_Fuck_!" I fought the urge to hurl my phone.

"Thought you were out catching a bird," said Elena as she and the director strolled up.

I leaned my head on the console. "Too slow." My head whipped up, red ponytail briefly whipping across my vision. "Any news?"

She shook her head, looking awkward. "I'm… sorry, Reno."

My mouth and gut twisted at the words. "What's _that_ supposed to mean? I thought you just said there was no news!"

"Calm down, Reno," said Tseng.

"I… I just meant…" Elena stammered.

"Just everyone shut the fuck up, right now," I said, and turned away, unable to bear those worried eyes on me, reflecting my own fear.

I shut my eyes, thunking my head against the cool glass of the passenger window. _Just hold on, Bami. I'm coming as fast as I can._

**_Cloud_**

"Your whole body has to pivot," I said to Denzel, standing behind him as he hefted a piece of my fusion sword. "Don't swing from your arms. Swing from your core. Every motion has to start with your feet or your core, even if you're suspended in midair."

My PHS rang as I said this, and I waited to see Denzel re-attempt his swing. "That's looking better." I unsnapped the phone from my belt, flipped it open and held it to my ear. "Yeah?"

"Are you still on the western continent?" said Reeve, without even a greeting. Something was up.

"Yeah, we're in Cosmo Canyon now," I said.

"Head for Rocket Town," said Reeve. "There's been an accident on the north end of the continent. I'll have a rescue detail rendezvous with you and take you to the crash site."

As he spoke I strode over to Denzel and held out my hand. He put the sword fragment in my gloved fingers and I turned to sheathe it in the open forward housing of Fenrir.

"…When you get there, your first priority is to locate Schala," Reeve finished.

"Schala?" I frowned in alarm. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know. It doesn't look good, Cloud." He sounded weary, older than I'd ever heard him. I swung onto the bike and started it up. Denzel obediently hopped up behind me and put his hands round my waist.

"On my way." I snapped my phone shut and secured it, then peeled out across the dusty red deserts toward the brand-new suspension bridge across the bay to Nibelheim.

"What's wrong?" Denzel asked.

"I don't know," I said, filled with nagging unease. I never seemed to be far from its grasp, the fear of losing a friend. Fear of it all starting again. Every time I encountered it, it was too strong to bear, and reminded me of how weak I was.

I zoomed across the landscape. Racing death may be futile, but I've never let futility or hopelessness come between me and a friend in danger. There's just no other way, for me. Nothing else matters but my friends.

And that's the real secret no one knows about me. I'm not a hero. I would have let the world end if I could have sat beside Aerith and Tifa, Barrett, Marlene, Cid, Yuffie, Vincent, Nanaki, and even Cait Sith, toasting marshmallows on the flames of the apocalypse. It's just so damn hard to do that without oxygen. The planet was saved because it gives my friends a place to live, because Aerith wanted it that way. I was saved because Zack wanted it that way.

My friends, I try to save because _I_ want it that way. And that is the only thing I want.

…Besides a milkshake. I hadn't had one in ages. Everyone drank damned tea. At some point, I figured, they were bound to rebuild the Downtown Diner and I could have grease, froth and solitude in my favorite booth again.

I sighed inwardly. It was a _long_ drive.

**_Reno_**

My phone bleeped shrilly, the signal for the emergency frequencies. Out-and-open. "Reno," I said to it, strained from half an hour of waiting, pacing the helicopter pad. _Should have taken the damned bird._

"Reno, it's Reeve," said a rich, deep voice.

"Ohh, _you_!" I snarled. "Yes, I know you! You're the guy that may have gotten my girl killed! And grounded the fucking choppers so I can't even get to her! What do you have to say to me, fuckface? And it had better be something along the lines of, 'air travel ban is lifted,' or 'she's okay,' because 'sorry' will not cut the mustard here!"

Reeve was quiet for a minute. "I may not be as close to her as you are, but believe me, I'm deeply worried about her too. Unfortunately it's not yet clear why the airship crashed. Until we rule out sabotage, we can't be sure that no threat exists to other aircraft."

I ground my palm into my face, clenching my jaw. "So… are your people at the site yet, or are you idiots still sitting on your hands?"

"The first team should be there soon. I won't be able to call you with updates, but Captain Highwind will be in touch personally within the hour about the air travel ban. If he thinks it's safe, you'll be among the first people he calls."

I pulled the phone away from my face and shook my hands at the sky. "_Fuuuuuck_!" I grimaced, repressed further outbursts and put the PHS back against my ear. There was only silence from the other end—the WRO's president had hung up.

"Pissing shit on a motherfucking shit cracker!" I hissed, cramming my phone in my pocket so hard I heard satin rip. I rounded on Rude, who stood quietly behind me, hands folded in front of him. He was perfectly still though the wind snatched at his tightly-fastened clothes.

"We still can't go anywhere 'cause Reeve thinks someone might blow one of our choppers!" I yelled.

Rude nodded sympathetically.

I swung the EMR, wishing there was something, _anything_ I could break that wasn't a fellow employee or liable to come out of my paycheck. I growled and continued stalking back and forth across the patterns painted on the concrete pad, caged by monstrous things beyond my control.

**_Cloud_**

I was so glad Denzel remained behind when the rescue squad picked me up. He insisted that he could handle it, that he was old enough, but I gave him the no-nonsense look and he stayed in Rocket Town with Shera.

I still don't remember everything about my early days as an infantryman in Shinra, but there are nights I get glimmers, images of the assault of the Genesis army on Junon and encountering Genesis himself in Modeoheim. But even that carnage, plus all my experiences during Meteorfall, didn't prepare me for what I saw in the valley north of Corel.

We could see the billowing black plumes of smoke from Rocket Town, where everyone not involved in mounting rescue operations stood outside and watched with murmuring, frightened voices. As we crossed the mountains through winding narrow passes the fire came into view.

_Holy hell._

I saw Nibelheim burned to the ground ten years ago, stood in the heat of its flames, watched my childhood home collapse in on itself, my mother still within. That was maybe half the size of the conflagration we headed toward.

The _Elmyra_ had crashed into the mountain and slid down, igniting a forest fire which was spreading along the ridge. Flaming wreckage had been thrown wide over the entire valley.

The fire in my eyes for a second overlapped with the memory of Nibelheim's destruction, a dark figure turning away to walk into the flames—and then I snapped back to the present. Someone behind me was weeping uncontrollably. Everyone else had been stunned silent as we rode into the valley of death.

The water trucks were just too pathetically small to try to contain what was happening. They focused on the core of the ship. One of the WRO generals loudly cursed out Captain Highwind on the phone about the airship restriction and needing immediate air firefighter support.

Even with flame-retardant gear and Elemental-Fire Materia joined on my bracer I balked at the sheer mind-bending heat of what I was walking into. Then I saw the first body and went lightheaded. I turned away until I could swallow again without swaying.

Then, with all the courage I could summon, I walked into the fire. I squinted through the gas mask and heat distortion.

_How am I ever supposed to find her in this?_ I tripped, looked down, and nearly threw up inside the mask. Some of the burned bodies were in pieces. I hadn't seen anything this bad on this scale in more than seven years and had forgotten how to deal.

I soldiered on. What choice did I have?

**_Reno_**

"She'll be fine, she'll be fine, she'll be fine," I said under my breath, eyes closed, shifting spastically in the co-pilot's seat. No one else said anything as Rude flew our chopper across the ocean, Tseng and Elena behind us in the cabin. I happened to open my eyes as we passed over Costa del Sol.

_We'll be there tonight_, I thought desperately. _Somehow, we'll find a way. I am not blowing yet another vacation. We are so going to need it, after today. Everything's going to be all right._

I glanced up and saw the smoke. My whole body went cold. "What… the hell…?" I whispered.

As we crossed the bay, the fire came into view. Elena, behind me, gasped. Choppers and repurposed Shinra bombers made passes over burning trees, dropping payloads of chemical fire retardant. I could hear the intensity of air traffic chatter from Rude's headset. He maneuvered smoothly to a wide approach.

"Oh, no…" Elena whispered faintly.

I remember when Diamond Weapon hit the Shinra Building in Midgar, destroying the top floors in flames. I remember when Midgar was crushed into the ground by Meteor while I was inside the ruins of said building. The latter, by far, remains the worst thing I've ever seen.

This was its own special shade of hell. Far fewer people, but the destruction was so raw and bare and wild—just laying there, the smoking wreckage—it filled me up with adrenalin and bile. I could hardly breathe. It hit like the difference between seeing an animal struck by a car, and that time as a kid when neighborhood freak Orill Tonaway showed off the dog he'd split open and spread out across the bottom of a rusty red wagon, playing 'autopsy.'

"Reno…" said Elena, her hand touching my shoulder.

"Yo, shut up," I snapped, my face flushing as my control started to slip and sheer panic leaked out. Relief rushed in when she pulled away.

_Get a grip, Sinclair!_ I told myself as we came in to land. Closer to the ground I saw most of the wreckage, though charred, had been extinguished. Trucks coming down from the passes through the mountains formed a semi-circle not too close to the scorched earth.

I opened the left-side front cabin door and leaned out, watching the ground approach. I leaped out as soon as it was close enough, tucked and rolled away from the descending landing skids. On my feet again, I started to run. Heat assailed me in the dying sunlight. I skipped over charred, twisted metal and wood. I had to squint, eyes burning and streaming from smoke. My head whipped around as I scanned for telltale blue hair.

I spotted telltale spiky blond. The ashy ground I crossed was _really_ hot. I could feel it even through thick sturdy rubber soles. Cloud was dressed in some pretty outrageous flame-retardant gear. A gas mask lay discarded on the ground beside him where he knelt, looking down at some charred bit of wreckage like it paralyzed him.

It makes me sick to think about what happened next. I squatted down next to him, looking at his face, not the wreckage. Who the fuck does that? I was not in my right mind. His blue eyes were fixed down and trembling.

"Hey, Cloud," I said quietly, almost glad of something to focus on other than the shit unfolding around us. "You okay?"

For a second I thought he didn't hear me. Then his gaze lifted. He looked absolutely _horrified_ to see me. He sucked in a sharp breath, pained eyes searching mine, and looked down again. This time I did as well.

I have seen some sick-ass shit. Hell, I have _done_ some sick-ass shit. Dealing with truly twisted horrors was more or less my job description as a Turk. I've helped carry my own president's half-burned body out of the wreckage of the Shinra building. I saw corpses decomposing in the ruin of Sector Seven weeks after I dropped the Plate. That was fucking gruesome, and a personally punishing episode for me. But not nearly as much as recognizing the barbecued, mutilated remains of my girlfriend lying dead on the ground.

The only reason I grabbed Cloud's shoulder was so I wouldn't fall on him. Amazingly, he didn't recoil or shove me away, just propped me up while I stared at her charred face. My flesh crawled. It seemed the only part of me that could move.

I don't really recall any thoughts, and my emotions were way too massive to be identifiable. It was all shades of bad, being me right then. I don't know how long I sat on my heels and hung on to Cloud.

Finally I was able to reject what I was seeing, pull back, turn away. I struggled to lever myself up using the blonde's shoulder, tripped and was caught under the arms by Rude, who stood behind me. I didn't even manage to look up at his face, but I'd know those immaculate shoes everywhere, even covered in ash. I puked all over them. My whole body wracked with painful spasms and squirted yellow bile across my partner's boots.

"Sorry," I muttered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The ground burned under my knees, but I didn't give a flying fuck about physical pain at this point. My brain was shutting off as much as it could. It deadened senses in overdrive and put Reno the soldier front and center to take over.

I pushed off from the ground and rose to face Rude. His head was twisted a little; I could tell he was staring past me and down at the body. I stepped around him to stand before Tseng. Elena stood beside him, little brown eyes trembling as she too focused behind me.

"What are your orders, sir?" I said, and I sounded exhausted even to myself.

The director shifted, meeting my eyes. "Take five, Reno."

"Looks like you need every man, boss," I said, feeling strained. My eyes begged his: _Please, for the love of Holy, give me something to do… some way outta my head…_

Tseng sighed and nodded. "Come with me." I trailed him, grateful, desperate to get away from what I was certain I would never forget. My heart burned like wildfire, locked away inside me where it couldn't contaminate the rest of me.

…Yeah, right.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Reno_**

Autopilot got me as far as the shower. I leaned against the wall and let scalding heat scour the ash and filth from me. The water swirling around my feet turned black.

My eyes squeezed shut. The inn in North Corel left a lot of creature comforts to be desired. Even turned all the way up, the heat didn't hurt enough. My body felt numb. My insides felt demolished. I dug nails into the back of my neck. It didn't help.

Tseng and Elena had gone back to Edge to coordinate further teams for the cleanup effort that would most likely fill all my days from top to bottom for a while. So I hoped. I wanted as little energy as possible to even think a single damn thought, feel a single thing.

Some of the fuckers still snuck through: _This can't be real…_ was in heavy rotation, as was, _…When am I gonna wake up?_ and, _It's not her._

I'd called her phone about two dozen times that day. Every time it clicked to her voicemail straight away I hung up. Even the sound of her recorded message threatened to throw me headlong into Panic Mode. I don't clean or put things together or help or play nice or think rationally in Panic Mode. Generally I blow shit up or break things. Preferably both.

The water turned cold. I didn't care for a while. Then I got fed up with water and shut it off, eager for a change of scenery and sensation. I wished the room had a minibar. I seemed to recall some sort of bar in town, but I knew if I saw a single other person's face I would probably smash it.

I prowled the room in a towel, hands dug in my hair. Everything was too quiet. The inn was full of exhausted glazed people who'd spent all day crawling through hell, putting out fires, putting bodies in bags, shoveling debris, loading some onto trucks to be disposed of elsewhere. Many more were camped out in the north valley. I was one of the lucky few who got a shower—which I overused—and a bed, which I wasn't sure I'd be able to use.

I don't know what I was going for when I fished my PHS out of my suit. I didn't want to talk or listen to anyone. Habit, I guess, drove me to check the thing. I noticed I had four messages I'd been ignoring all day as I tried calling Schala over and over. I couldn't imagine them to be important, but at least it would stop the quiet for a while without me having to say anything or think much.

I put the phone to my ear and walked over to look out the window at the depressing little dive of North Corel. It hadn't improved much in three years since Meteorfall. In its few sparse streetlamps it looked huddled, dirty and makeshift.

As soon as the first message started I knew I'd made a hideous mistake, but I couldn't unfreeze or stop listening. My stomach dropped clean away.

"I love Wutai!" Schala's voice bubbled. "I learned an even better nickname for you today: 'Yaro.' It means 'gets what he wants.' Is that not perfect?

"I'm bringing litchi fruits. I hope they survive, I want to show you a variant of this game I know called 'hide the strawberry.' It's just as dirty as it sounds.

"Oh my Holy, I miss you so much. I'm telling Reeve no more two-week jaunts, this is _torture_. I know I'm gonna see you in four hours, but I have well and truly lost it this time. I know you're at work and I hate to bother you there. I just absolutely had to hear your voice. I knew even if you didn't answer I'd hear your smarmy sexy voicemail message.

"It's true: I miss your smarm. It makes my clothes fall off. As does your hair, your smug little mouth, those collarbones I love so much, your sweet flaming red hair. …I miss your bluegreen eyes. I miss your tattoos and your feet and your ass and your… everything…" She sighed. "I miss the way you look at me. I miss your snicker. I miss you, hot stuff.

"Okay, the airship's boarding at last! I'll be in your arms in four hours! Whoo, hell, this was a long one! …You are going to taunt me about this stupid message for the rest of my life, aren't you? …It's all right, I know I'm pathetic for you. Can you blame me? I love you, Lyrant.

"…Oh, and this is Schala, to distinguish it from the identical six or seven messages I'm sure you get per day from women and men just as desperate for your body and soul, you smoking hot piece of Turk."

The worst message I'd ever received ended.

I screamed. I don't know where it came from, but it came like a freight train and just kept coming. The howl poured out of me with all the force and fight left in me. It forced me to my knees.

This was worse than physical pain. If this much pain had stabbed through my body, I'd have been knocked out. Instead this agony nailed me to heart-stripping soul-ripping reality and didn't let me go. I was its bitch, its victim, crushed under vicious blows. My body managed to gasp in breath and the scream poured back in and over me. Its tidal waves just went on and on. I'd rather have gone up against Sephiroth with my arms and legs cut off than go through the evisceration I felt.

When it finally stopped I realized the shattered remains of my PHS were digging sharply into my left palm. I opened it and stared in horror at blood-daubed electronics.

_What have I done? What have I _done_?!_ I felt like I'd crushed to death the last breath of her life in the world, the last vestige of what she was, the last proof she existed. My stomach roiled. For the first time I knew, really knew she was dead. And it was too much. I bawled like a fucking baby, cradling my broken phone.

Eventually my brain stopped slacking off and realized I could get a new one tomorrow, that the message was still out there. I fought a panicked need to wake up Rude, borrow his PHS and call someone right away to order another. I knew that like Rude, everyone who could help was sacked out.

Anyway I didn't think I was ready to hear that fucking thing again. I would have sooner ripped out my toenails. I washed the blood off my hands in icy water and shut off the light, crawling under cold covers.

_I'm never gonna feel her twined around me again, sucking heat out of me or helping me generate a lot in a hurry_, the thought seized me.

_…Just go to sleep, Sinclair. You'll wake up in the morning and all this will have been a dream. She'll come home, Costa del Sol, lots of sex, and finishing that goddamn vacation you started a year ago and never got back to._

_…Please, for the love of Holy, let this be a nightmare…_

**_Cloud_**

Reno's scream filled the church. Colored light through stained glass seemed to trap him, enraged, between the pews. He banged his fists on the unyielding air while I backed away, urging her behind me to run. I finally turned away and hustled her to the stairs into the roof at the back of the building.

I heard her breathing, whimpering, and the scream went on and on behind us. I couldn't tell how far away he was. _Goddamn, that man is loud!_

She ran up the stairs with me. Machine gun fire from the floor before tripped her up and sent her tumbling down. I leaned out, hanging onto a support beam, frightened for her. Shinra soldiers on the ground fired up at her. Still that awful soul-wrenching sound continued like some siren of hell.

As she looked up I realized it was Schala down there, with soldiers dressed in blinding white closing in on her.

"Help me!" she cried up to me.

I ran to push a barrel over. As I reached it, the barrel unfolded. My skin crawled. It was Aerith. She looked right into my eyes, paralyzing me.

"Aren't you going to help her?" she said. "You said you'd be her bodyguard. She needs you now more than ever, I think."

I shot a frantic look down at the floor. Some sort of black mud was piling up around Schala, or she was sliding down into it, and she couldn't seem to struggle out. She reached up toward me.

I ran for the other barrel, my eyes locked on her, and slammed into a solid broad chest. Arms grabbed me and pulled me off. I looked up into Zack's Mako-blue eyes.

"Feeding time," he said. "That's our chance!"

My heart pounded in my ears. I struggled to pull away but he wouldn't let go. I felt trapped.

"_Cloud_!" I couldn't tell if the scream was Schala's or Aerith's. I whipped my head around in desperation. From the angle I could only see a sliver of pink dress and snatch of red sleeve.

I thrashed awake, burning, sheets binding my torso. I gasped in air. Overhead I heard sobbing, realized right away it was Reno even while my brain was still trapped in a nightmare fog. I blinked at the ceiling.

The crying was worse to listen to than the scream. Reno clearly had a grudge against the world, I knew that the minute I met him, and he could yell a house down in his rage. He could pick a fight with a wall. I'd have expected that sooner than wails of despair and defeat.

Yet in a horrible way I envied him being able to let it out like that. I never could. It's not my way, but sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if I could have screamed or yelled or cried more than just once when Zack died. But maybe then there wouldn't have been enough left over to fight as I had to.

I rolled over on my side, pulling the pillow over my ears. All too much.

_One thing's for sure—Reno's no empty puppet. I guess I'm not either._

**_Reno_**

"It is with great sadness and a resolve to carry on the work and passion of those we lay to rest today that we honor their memory." Reeve's voice, ever-composed and smooth, rolled amplified over the obscenely bright day and the crowd gathered in the dry hills north of Edge.

"In returning to the Lifestream their spirits grant us a future, life to continue rebuilding our world and memorialize each of them with every stone we lay, every roof under which we shelter those in need."

I stared furiously at the ground, hands in tight little balls. The Turks stood around me, my president in front of me. Even the truly remarkable sight of Rufus Shinra in a non-white suit wasn't enough to break me out of the blackest of moods.

"We honor them with our sadness, our struggles, our laughter, our joy, with each day that passes. Though life is short, our world is whole and unending, and in the fullness of time we will rejoin our fallen comrades and loved ones in the Lifestream."

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. _Some sooner than others, with any luck…_

I thought the speech was as bad as it could get. I shifted from foot to foot as the WRO's president poured piles of salt and gallons of lemon juice all over the wounds he himself helped cause. I shot daggers of glares at him, but his fucking face pissed me off so much I had to look down frequently and steady on the sight of my shoes.

After the speech came a shittier trial—people came up to talk to me. As if they couldn't see how much I wanted to murder someone. Rude stepped up beside me and folded his arms, looking forbidding, which cut short some 'I'm truly sorry for your loss'-es and 'I'm sure she's in a better place'-s, but pissed me off further.

"I don't need a babysitter!" I hissed under my breath at Rude.

He nodded, but didn't budge. I snarled, startling Tifa as she approached.

"Not one word," I said to her. "Not one fucking word."

She nodded and moved on. Behind her was Reeve. I rose onto the balls of my feet and like lightning Rude's hand clamped down on my shoulder.

Reeve's face was like a goddamn diagram of carefully schooled sympathy. Like it had been built in a lab, not manufactured of actual emotion.

"Reno," he said. "I…"

I turned on my heel and stomped away. It was not anywhere near the top of the list of things I wanted to do to him, a list that involved such vivid things as iron brands, machetes, battery acid, and squibs. What I would have given for a locked room, manacles and a book of matches saying something splashy like 'Visit Wutai!'

But the hillside was packed with witnesses. True, they were watching coffins being lowered on straps by machine and hand, but any scream from President Tuesti and they would have turned to look. I know I would have. I didn't want to face dozens of boxes going six feet under. The finality of it incensed me.

_Lifestream my ass. She's fucking dead. Ain't nothing profound about that._

Rude shadowed me. I just couldn't shake him. Like always. His silence was made louder by my chronic irritation.

"Let's go get hammered," I said to him. "I'm sick of this day."

**_Cloud_**

"You know, that motherfucker has some fucking nerve!" Reno said for the third time, shaking his head. "Piece of shit sent her to her death and had the goddamn gall to give that pretty little speech trying to sanctify his goddamn mistakes. The maintenance crew who dropped the ball on the _Elmyra_'s stasis leak weren't even so stupid to show up today. Sanctimonious little fuckwad, who does Reeve think he is? Thinkin' he's better than Shinra. At least we're tryin' to fix all we fucked with! What's he doing, huh? Using her death as a fucking recruitment plea for the WRO!"

Rude's head swiveled to me, and I felt those unseen eyes seeking help from me. I went on listening.

"God fucking _damn_ it!" Reno knocked back his scotch and banged the glass on the table so hard I thought he'd break it. It wouldn't have been the first time that night. "_Tifa_!" he roared. "Another round! …Fuck, Cloud, are you gonna be all day about that vodka? Huh?"

It was water, but I wasn't about to clarify. Rude drained his brandy unsteadily. For a big guy, he's not much of a drinker.

Reno, on the other hand, sat ramrod-straight. Which is kind of a giveaway itself, since normally he lounges on things like he was dropped from a height. His words didn't slur, each abusive syllable bitten off with a sneer. If I'd been matching him drink for drink, I would have been under the table, where Rude seemed to be slowly sinking.

"It's last call, gentlemen," Tifa said, bringing the tray. The bar was empty of all but the most determined and alcoholically self-involved, driven away by the volatile redhead's outbursts.

Reno glowered at her, snatching his drink from her hand. "_I'll_ say when it's last call, thank you."

"The bar is closing, Reno," said Tifa. "I'm sorry, but after this one you have to go."

"You'd throw me out? Today?!" Reno started to rise. My hand shot out to grab his arm. His gaze hardened on me.

"Got any more at your place?" I inquired carefully.

Reno scowled. "No. All gone." He settled seething into his seat and took a long sloppy swig from his glass. Scotch spattered on his already-stained dress shirt. His Turk uniform hadn't been particularly clean to begin with. Even his hair was greasy and tangled, a truly hideous sight.

"You've gotta have some, though, right?" he continued to me. "You strike me as a solo drinker. Bottle of crystal-clear forget in the bottom desk drawer?"

I shook my head.

He bared his teeth. "_Fuuuuck_! What's a guy gotta do to get a drink in this town?" He sipped again, as if just talking about the liquor running out made him start to die of thirst.

I shrugged. "Wait until the stores open tomorrow."

"Oh, fuck that." He sucked down the last of the brown liquid and set the glass aside as he rose. "Somebody downtown's gotta have_something_."

"Everywhere's closed," I said, rising. Rude's head had sunk to his chest and he was starting to snore lightly.

Reno shook his head. "What I had in mind ain't in stores." He dumped a couple of handfuls of gil on the table and stalked rapidly for the door. I held my hand up to Tifa as I trotted after him.

Reno banged out the door and sucked in a lungful of the night. "Smells dirty," he said, and grinned at me with a hard glint in his eye. "Just like me."

"Hey, maybe we should call it a night, huh?" I said.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, you're a drag to hang with anyway. I need fresh blood." He hopped down the steps and headed along the street. I followed.

"Tryin' out to be Rude's understudy?" he snapped. "'Cause like I told him earlier, I _don't_ need a fucking babysitter!"

"Didn't say you did," I said.

"Then what, Strife?" He swiveled around, hands shoved in his pockets, walking backward. "Am I _entertaining_ you? Is that it? Come to watch the show? Reno's finest hour?" He spun back around on his heel and started whistling shrilly as he strode. He broke off abruptly. "You're a stupid motherfucker, you know. Tifa's not gonna wait forever for you. She's a fine-looking woman, and everybody but you knows it. Some day some guy's gonna turn her head and you'll be left out in the cold, all alone. Boy, will you be sorry then!" He laughed nastily.

I watched his ponytail lashing across his black suit jacket as he walked, turning all kinds of sick colors in the peach and lavender streetlights. I heard his words, but also heard the rawness underneath. Reno was bleeding out all over the world. If I didn't persuade him to go home, he was going to happen to someone, probably himself.

_Problem is, he's not going to listen to me, or anyone else_, I thought. _I can be patient. I've got nowhere else to be._

"You just don't give a shit, do you Cloud? Is that something that died with Aerith?" said Reno. "Maybe tomorrow I won't give a shit anymore, what do you think? Wouldn't that be fantastic?" He spread his arms wide. "If I didn't give a shit, I could pull all this down tomorrow. God knows I've got access to enough explosives to do it, too. …'Cause what is the fucking point of all this? Everyone slaving away at their menial, pointless tasks to rebuild the world, when all of it could just end in an instant. People still fucking die, and there's no_reason_ for it! No goddamn reason at _all_!"

He stopped abruptly, whirled and got up in my face, eye to eye with me. "Well? Aren't you going to say anything at _all_? I just threatened to blow up the fucking city, Cloud, aren't you gonna stop me? Just like old times!"

I just looked at him. He grabbed the front of my sleeveless shirt in one fist and yanked me even closer.

"What do you _want_ from me?" he hissed, almost spitting in my face. He flushed with rage.

I shook my head. "Nothing at all."

He trembled, and for a long moment I thought he was going to punch me. I waited. He shoved me away from him, so firmly I stumbled in the gutter and fell on the pavement behind me, catching myself with my hands.

"Then _fuck off_!" he screamed.

I spotted shadows moving behind him and sprang up, drawing my sword. Reno burst into an evil little grin.

"Oh, you wanna go with me?" He sank into a fighting stance and snapped out his nightstick.

"Behind you!" I said.

Reno cackled. "Come on, Cloud, I'm not _stupid_!"

The would-be mugger did me a solid favor by clubbing Reno over the head, not even seeing me and my fusion sword core. As the redheaded Turk collapsed I stepped into a pool of streetlight. The greasy muddy thief looked up from his would-be victim. He drained of all color at the sight of my giant blade. He took to his heels.

I sheathed my sword and heaved a tired sigh at Reno, lying in a heap on the sidewalk. At least bonelessly unconscious he was easy to persuade. I flung him over my shoulder and walked back to his midtown address.

The poor bastard looked like a broken doll when I dropped him on his overlarge and over-empty bed. I hurled a blanket over him and headed back to Seventh Heaven.

Tifa was still up when I got there, totaling receipts in the back room. She heard me come in and popped out, her face a mask of worry.

"Did you get him home?" she said.

"Eventually," I said, stretching with a wince. "He's heavier than I expected."

Her brown eyes filled with sadness. "You're a good man."

I shook my head. "Any other Turks you need delivered home before I shut down for the night? Where's Rude?"

"Managed him myself. He was more tired than anything else. He's really worried about Reno. I can't blame him. …Cloud." She hesitated.

I turned away. "I'm tired. Been a long day." I headed upstairs.

"Yeah," she said. "Good night, Cloud."

"'Night, Tif."

I shed my clothes into a puddle beside my bed. Silent darkness closed around me as I slid between the sheets.

I scanned the darkness of my office blindly for a sign of the nightmares waiting behind my eyelids. The ones with Aerith, and Zack, and Schala. The three of them melded and fused and switched alarmingly. One or all were somehow trapped, or restraining me.

Sometimes one was buried in the ruins of the Shinra building, or locked in the Sunken Gelnika, filling up with water. All three demanded, with words or desperate eyes, that I do something I never could manage before I woke in flaming guilt and shame.

_Again I failed to protect someone I love_, I thought, pushing my hands together under the pillow. I buried my face in it with a groan, lying on my stomach. _When will this end? …When I stop caring._

_…Which won't be 'till I'm dead._

_…Damn._


	3. Chapter 3

**_Vincent_**

This world holds few pleasures I need not deny myself. Pleasures of the flesh test my control past its edge. My flesh is weak and excitable, more so than ordinary humans', the risk too great. To maintain composure I disdain the garden of earthly delights.

Perhaps this encourages too much keenness in the things with which I do indulge. Captain Highwind certainly seems to believe so, but a less-restrained man I would be hard-pressed to find. It is with bittersweet enjoyment I vicariously watch those who need not keep their desires tightly leashed. At times it produces in me a fierce joy to be a voyeur. At others it produces a black passion and I crave solitude and relief from the baseness of other living things.

Even in foul moods I crave my stories—gossip, rumor, scandal, secrets, veiled shame and passion. Perhaps it is the damned screaming in me of tales I don't reveal that drives me to the lifeblood of others' hot darkness. It does not seem to matter if the stories are of anonymous charity or selfish failings. It's the fact that they are desperately hidden that draws me.

I have honed my silent lurking patience, and balance to perch in unexpected places where none think to look. I am an excellent eavesdropper. Even as an unaltered man, in my years in the Turks, my surveillance talents were among the best. Blending keen animal instincts with my senses improved things a thousandfold.

Shinra still had secrets. No organization with a core so corrupt for so long rids itself of bad habits so easily. So it was my box of chocolates, my red-light district, my liquor cabinet, my underground boxing clique. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Fortunately I am no angel.

'Twas like many other Saturday nights for me, sitting crouched on my heels atop a narrow chimney stack in Junon, eyes shut in a drowsy haze to listen all the harder. A pair of men below thought the nearby ocean would drown their words, wind would scatter them, and spoke incautiously.

"Last month it was a whole assload of medical equipment."

"Yeah, and this month, chains, locks, concrete—same area of the world, different division."

"That _is_ weird."

"Requisitions usually go through official channels, too, but I can tell these sigs are rubber-stamped all the way. Plus, look—no carbon…"

The talk cut off abruptly with unexpected gurgles. I plucked out of an inner pocket one of a series of mirrors on extensible arms I have for just this reason and descended enough to use it.

Their throats poured black-red blood on the ground they lay on. I lifted an eyebrow, put away my surveillance tools, and took off across the rooftops.

**_Reno_**

I put my feet up on the director's desk and shoved my hands behind my head with a casual air less than skin deep. Tseng finished typing, pushed aside his keyboard, folded his hands on the desk and looked across at me.

I raised my eyebrows at him. I had a massive, searing headache. My cheekbone still flowered with pain and heat from the prior night's bruising.

"You have quite a bit of leeway with me, Reno," he said. "More so than any other Turk."

I rolled my eyes. _Starting out patronizing_, I thought. "'Cause I'm your best man."

Tseng didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "That leeway is dangerously depleted. You are consistently late, hung over, uncooperative, and abusive to your subordinates and colleagues."

"Only the ones that were asking for it!" I said.

"I have been defending your attitude and behavior to the president on an almost daily basis. You are not above Shinra rules. In order for this organization to function in this world, even more so than before Meteorfall, our effort must include solidarity and dedication. Things I no longer detect in your work output."

"Am I fired?" I sneered, though just uttering the words made a sharp twist in my chest.

His eyes just took me in emotionlessly. "…Not yet. However if your performance does not improve, if you cannot come in to work functional and on time, I will reconsider. I'm not unsympathetic. If you need leave, you are due it."

"Doin' just fine, boss," I snapped.

His eyes crystallized. "You are not. Don't presume me a fool."

"I wasn't!" I winced, my head stabbing through both temples at my own shout. I took my feet off the desk and sighed, leaning forward to rub just behind my tattoos. Tseng rose up and walked around his desk. I looked up to see him standing over me—

_I sit at my desk, hands in my hair. My eyes feel like clammy gelatin. I'm not made to stare at a computer screen. I feel my muscles atrophying. I want to prowl, to patrol, to intimidate, to fight. I don't want this. But in some ways I do, because I'm tired of saving the world and just want to live in it for a while. And move explosives around. I just want to do it with my hands, not my emails._

_I used to have such a nice job, too. I was a bad-ass motherfucker, feared and respected everywhere I went—for the most part—and all the bombs I could carry. Now I'm just a pencil-pusher. True, there are exploding things, but I never get to play with them anymore, goddamn it._

_And it wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't been jerking off the last three nights and panting into a cold PHS, I know. Her distant voice is better than a silent solo orgasm, but I wake up each morning lonelier than the night before._

_My eyelids don't want to lift after each blink and see those rows of endless type marching past. I consider pulling up some porn to run in the background, but most of my collection is stored at home. The stuff I have at work is the stuff I specifically brought in to horrify Elena._

_I feel someone approach behind me and I hold up a finger, trying for the fortieth time to finish the sentence I'm on. My brain's being an obstinate bitch._

_Something warm and wet touches my finger. My head twists in bewilderment. I look right into Schala's wide green eyes, her tongue still extended against my digit. She straightens, slamming her lips shut, and contrives to look innocent with her hands behind her back._

_I scramble out of my chair so hard and fast I knock it over. I grab her and bear her to the office wall, knocking down the bulletin board. I smash my mouth over hers, burning hot with every inch of me. I slide my hands down her sexy puple-clothed body._

_"Oh, give me a _break_!" Elena snaps, somewhere behind me._

_I free my mouth, grinning at Schala. She smiles at me. "No, give me a break!" I say. "Back in twenty." I snatch my girlfriend's hand and drag her down the hall, mischief on my mind._

_The unisex bathroom. Home to much restraint, aversion of eyes, and repression. I don't give a shit about privacy, and never have, so I've done my best to catch peeks at Elena and the other female employees about the place. Males too, I'm an equal-opportunity pervert. The girls have a special code phrase for when they see me coming: snake in the grass. Yeah, real original, right?_

_The desexualized can is setting for a _lot_ of my daydreams. Ideally my girl would have had Elena attached to her other hand, licking up and down Schala's neck suggestively, but I'm so damn happy just to have the chance to turn dream to reality. I push into the bathroom, tugging Schala after me._

_As soon as we're inside she whirls around and slams me against the tile wall. The breath rushes out of me, more from pleased surprise than physical impact. She's so hot and feral and I feel need wriggling under my skin._

_"Good giiiiirl," I groan as she leans in to suck on my neck. "You're home early!"_

_She giggles, vibrating my throat so I shiver. "Mm, then you don't mind me dropping in on you at work?"_

_"Shit, Bami, are you kidding?" I hiss, and tug at her pants. "C'mon, c'mon…"_

_"Oh, you can't be serious!" she says. "What if someone walks in? You might get fired!"_

_I laugh. "Me? Never!" I kiss her neck in those special sweet spots under her ear that make her generally do whatever I want, as long as sex is involved._

_"Lyrant…" she moans._

_"Thaaaat's it," I whisper. "That's what I love to hear. _Give in to me_."_

_She does. Like nobody's business. God, it's so hot, it's almost a race to see who can finish first. Kinda hard to tell who wins and who loses that race, but since we both come up grinning like fools, I guess it doesn't matter. She straightens her clothes the fastest, then while I'm re-buttoning my shirt she reaches up and ruffles my hair vigorously with both hands._

_"Hey!" I say. She dances back from me as I zip my pants. She's holding my sunglasses. "HEY!"_

_She jumps back again, putting them on her head. She shoves her hands in her pockets, cocks her head and leans her upper back into the wall behind her, tousled blue ponytail slipping over her shoulders._

_"You think you can handle me?" she drawls. "Pssh. Please. Don't you know who you're dealing with? Bloody well Reno of the Turks, that's who!"_

_I growl, pounce on her and wrestle her to the ground. A toilet flushes behind me. We both jump and look up as Tseng emerges from a bathroom stall, ignoring us. He strides over to wash his hands methodically. I look down at Schala, snort softly at her expression of shock._

_After Tseng wipes his hands he walks over to us. "My office, Reno. Now." He slips out of the restroom._

_"Oooh, you're in _trouble_…" she says in a singsong voice._

_"Give me those!" I snatch the sunglasses off her head, then roll off her and up to my feet in one practiced motion. I stalk over to the mirror to undo her damage to my 'do. She steps up behind me, sliding her hands around to my front. I grin slyly at my reflection._

You're a rock star!_ I think at myself._

_Her fingers fiddle; she's undoing my buttons. I slap at her hands._

_"Oh, so two buttons open is fine, three is too many?" she says._

_"Do you _want_ me to look like the office slut?" I snap in fake irritation._

_"You mean, more than you already do?" She gives me a narrow-eyed grin in the mirror. I whirl on her, grab the back of her neck and kiss her passionately._

_"There!" I say. "That had better tide you over until I get home, young lady!"_

_She gives me a little pout. I think she knows how that pout makes me feel. I suck my lower lip into my mouth and bite down hard. Her hands squeeze my ass._

_"Ungrateful," she whispers._

_"You bitch," I hiss._

_"I love you so much I almost can't stand it," she says._

_"Ditto," I say._

_Somehow, with parting groans, we split off outside the restroom and I stroll whistling into Tseng's office. I drop into the chair across his desk._

_"That was inexcusable," he says. "You are a Turk, and as such are expected to set some standards for other Shinra employees. Office decorum may be flexible where you are concerned, but not that flexible."_

_"Lighten up, boss," I say. "I get the job done, don't I? No matter what."_

_He arches an eyebrow, and his body follows it. He rounds the corner of the desk to stand over me as I grin up at him._

_"I'm disallowing Miss Zeal's visiting privileges in the building," he says. "I want you to bear in mind that others are affected by your insolence."_

—"Reno!"

I jumped. He was standing in the same position over me. Fear thudded out of my heart and poured icily through my veins. I jumped up, knocking the chair I was in over, nearly hurling me headlong back into the memory I'd just been lost in.

"It… it won't happen again." I held up my hands, backing away, as much a prayer to myself as a reassurance to my boss. I felt clammy sweat dripping from my armpits.

Tseng frowned. "Reno, you're motivated and dedicated. I know that hasn't changed. We need your efforts, now more than ever. Pull it together."

"Of course," I muttered, choking in the atmosphere in his office, desperate to get out before the hovering memory splashed over me again. "Thanks, sir." I felt the doorhandle bump my hip. I wrenched it gratefully and got out. I sucked in a massive lungful of air in the hall.

I put my hands over my face. _Get a grip, get a grip…_

Ordinarily I would have gone to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, but the thought of walking in there right then made my flesh crawl. I did not like what had just happened one bit. I needed a break, but at the time I believed I'd just had one, so I ground my teeth and went back to work. The past and present fought sickeningly in my head. I lost.

**_Cloud_**

After my last delivery of the day I started to climb on my bike. A familiar sign stopped me. I frowned, straddling Fenrir, and twisted to look over my shoulder up the street in Edge's fourth district. And there it was, exactly as it had been nine months ago. I dismounted, pushed my sunglasses up into my hair, and stared into my memory.

_The child, newly healed of his Geostigma, scampered off with a squeal of laughter. Schala remained kneeling in the dirty rank alley. She shivered inside the long leather jacket Tifa had loaned her._

_"You okay?" I said, pushing off from a brick wall I'd been leaning against and unfolding my arms. She didn't even look up. "…Hey." I reached down to her. She grasped my glove with a shaking hand. I pulled. She didn't seem to have much strength, but that was all right; I did. Still, she couldn't manage to stand on her own two feet and would have collapsed if I hadn't grabbed her around the waist and held her up. Her arms reflexively clung around my neck._

_"I'm cold," she murmured shakily into my shirt._

_"I could tell," I said. "You want me to take you back now?"_

_She shuddered. "Bike is colder. I need something hot to drink. Urgently." She looked up at me, pleading._

_I shifted her in my grasp so I could half-carry her steps as we exited the alley. Nearly directly across, we both saw the sign at the same time. She laughed sharply._

_"How fortuitous," she gasped._

I entered to the sound of gently tinkling bells hung on the door with bright red cord. A row of little gold and white cat statues on a shelf above a row of brown and green clay teapots waved their eerie little arms at me. The wrinkled old Wuteng woman in a navy blue wrap dress who greeted me with a bow, exactly the same as she had that day.

"Just one, honored sir?" she said in careful words, spoken slowly to offset her accent. I nodded. She gestured to one of the low tables.

I hesitated and pointed to another. "May I?"

She bowed again. "Of course, sir."

As I slid into that same seat I looked across. The empty one filled again with memory.

_She huddled over her steaming cup, head cradled in both hands, hair nearly curtaining her from sight. Whenever she set it down, empty, I poured more._

_After a while her shivering lessened and she straightened enough to look up at me. She smiled. She was on the third pot and my cup stood untouched._

_"Aren't you going to have any?" she said._

_I shrugged. "Don't really like tea."_

_She looked surprised. "Why don't you order something else?"_

_I shrugged again. It didn't seem important, in the face of things._

_She gave me a look. "Cloud. You can do what you want. You can have things you like, simple pleasures. Those things are important too. They make life enjoyable, not just bearable. What do you like to drink?"_

_I hesitated, uncomfortable at how she seemed to be able to read me. I rather like being inscrutable, and this girl I'd known only a week seemed to have x-ray vision._

_"…Milkshakes," I said._

_She beamed, her eyes lighting up. "Let's go get one after this, okay?"_

_I shook my head. "Nowhere serves them anymore."_

_Her face fell. "Ice cream?" she said hopefully. I shook my head again. She sighed. "Damn. I was going to make you one."_

_"Why?" I said, bewildered. "It's just a milkshake."_

The old woman approached, dissipating the fog of memory. My eyes flicked up at her.

"Jasmine tea," I said. She bowed, took my menu and moved away so the past could flow back in her wake.

_"I like to see you happy," said Schala. "Sometimes when a lot of really bad things have happened to a person, it makes even little pleasures more potent, because they're not taken for granted so much."_

_I frowned a little, considering this._

_"It was like that for me, anyway, after my husband died," she said._

_My eyebrows shot up. "…What?"_

_She drained her cup and set it down. I snatched up the pot and poured, keeping my eyes on her, and spilled some on the table in my haste. She wiped up the spill while I set the pot down._

_"I didn't know," I said. "When did this happen? Meteorfall?"_

_"No. Many years ago." She blew on her tea. "It devastated me. Serge was so kind, strong, caring, and he loved me much more than I think I deserved." She sipped the tea and closed her eyes. "I cultivated simple pleasures. They didn't fill the hole, but nothing did. Things like hot tea made the cold of sleeping alone more bearable." She looked up at me, and her eyes poured out feeling._

_I felt taken aback, and actually took a sip of tea to steady myself. Where I held everything in, she laid it all out bare. I felt like I'd watched her take off all her skin to show me the organs underneath. Her eyes were bright with tears, but she didn't let them spill._

_It was the sight of that which undid me. "I lost someone too," I whispered._

_She nodded in acknowledgement, eyes steady on mine. Finally one tear escaped and fled her eye as fast as it could track down her face._

_"She grew the flowers in that church. It was where we first met. She helped me there, too," I said, almost numb, my voice a whisper._

_She set down her tea and slid a hand across the table, palm up, an offer. I set my hand in hers. She closed her other one around it. Suddenly I wished I wasn't wearing the glove. To my utter shock she peeled it off. I felt the warmth of her skin over mine. I shut my eyes tight, almost unable to bear the sensation of human contact._

_"I… couldn't… save her." I fought every word that writhed out of my mouth. Her fingers slid over and under mine, and through them, and her touch warmed me. Steadied me. I looked up at her. Her gaze poured sympathy at me._

_"I tried to save him," she said. "I couldn't imagine doing anything else. The world was poorer without him."_

_I nodded hard._

_"What's left of him lives in my memory," she said. "As long as I keep that alive—as long as I stay true to what he valued and try to express what I found so inspiring in him—that is how I keep him alive. That's the legacy of love he left me."_

_My grip tightened on her as I sucked in air over my teeth. _'Legacy.' 'Alive.' How is she doing that? Can she hear my thoughts?_ I thought._

_She smiled at me as if in response, but I didn't know what it meant._

_"Everyone finds their own way to grieve, no two ways alike, just as no two griefs are the same," she said._

_"Who are you?" I wondered aloud._

_She laughed and squeezed my hand. "Hell if I know anymore." She lifted a hand to drink her tea, and I pulled my hand back from hers. My chest and mouth felt full but I had no words to say any of it. I drank my tea and fidgeted a little with the cup. She poured me another, and herself the last of it. I signaled to the woman for more._

Bizarrely, the old woman in the present brought my tea at just that moment. I frowned in discomfort as I watched her go.

_"Cloud," said Schala, "I… I have… a favor to ask."_

_I jolted out of my thoughts and my tea. The taste wasn't too bad while my mind was elsewhere. I swallowed the nearly-scalding liquid hastily and winced. "What is it?"_

_She flushed and looked down, clearly unhappy. "You've been so kind… I'm grateful for everything you've done, and I hate to ask for more."_

_I spread my hands. "Just ask."_

_She sighed, tucked a hand in her curly hair. "In the next couple of days I'll be finished, and then… I need to get to Healen."_

_"I'll take you," I said. "I'm a delivery boy. It's what I do."_

_"But… I don't have any money."_

_"We're friends, right?"_

_A tired smile grew in place of the unhappiness. "Yes. Yes, of course we are. …Would you come visit me sometime, in Healen?"_

_I frowned. "You'll… be living there?"_

_She nodded. "I've spoken to some of the doctors, and there's a place for me there."_

_I didn't quite know what to say. I hadn't realized until right then that she might not stay in Edge. I stared down into my tea. I didn't know what I felt._

_She curled in on herself and drank her tea, looking even more tired than when we came in. Her eyes closed, her hand coming up to support her forehead. I regarded her thoughtfully. Every night we drove home to Seventh Heaven she was exhausted and shaking, teeth chattering. She could barely walk at all at the end of the day, and I would reach out and support her. She didn't say anything to me, just went to bed._

Thinking about her exhaustion reminded me of my own. Each night in bed my dreams took me over.

The prior night I'd dreamed of the basement of the Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim. Aerith, Zack and Schala all floated sealed in seamless tanks while the building burned. There was nothing I could do to break the thick glass, not my increasingly frantic fists and boots, nor my sword, nor any tools or furniture I could lay my panicked hands on. I banged and raged and cursed under my breath. I could feel the heat pressing down on me and still didn't give up.

Aerith's eyes flicked open behind the glass, glowing with the green light in the tank. Terror flooded her features. She opened her mouth in a silent scream, her body twisting slowly, and she began to convulse. Beside her, Zack did as well. I screamed and still made no headway getting them out. Their bodies each spiraled slowly to the top of the tank and went still.

At the end of the row Schala remained floating placidly, eyes closed, her comatose state undisturbed by the raging flames reflected on the glass. I looked from her to my deceased friends, helpless, choking on smoke.

Then as the flames started to lick at my back I saw, etched with reflected orange in the glass, the words: 'Let's get out of here!' Schala's eyes snapped open, filled with fire, and I felt myself fall forward without stopping…

"…Sir?"

I jolted back to the present, blinking. _When did it get dark outside?_ The old woman bowed to me.

"Please, sir, we are to close soon…" she said.

I dug some gil out of my pocket to hand to her. I pushed my chair back and strode out, my tea cold and untouched. I mounted Fenrir, pausing a moment with my eyes closed, trying to remember what it had felt like when she swung on after me and clung to my waist, trembling like a leaf.

I couldn't. The memory was gone. I started the bike and swung toward Seventh Heaven.

I saw people hurrying out the front door as I arrived. I opened the forward housing and reached for the handle of the fusion sword core. I parked the bike in front instead of around the side. As soon as the motor was off I heard shouts and commotion inside. The housing snapped shut when the bike powered down. I hurried up the steps and pushed open the door. As I did so distant sirens became audible behind me.

Unlike the other nights that week, Tifa was nowhere to be seen. I was glad. I hated seeing her fighting her own customers. I pushed into the press of bodies rearing away from the fight, sword carefully brandished. People watching and cheering drunkenly turned as I approached, saw the sword and skittered back.

Inevitable red hair came into view, whipping and flying around as Reno ducked and wove and kicked. He grinned nastily at the six guys all trying to land punches on him, most far larger than he. His nose was bloodied and he didn't appear to care. Rude, behind him, was trying to force his way between the two nearest men to reach his reckless partner. Stools and tables lay overturned at the epicenter, ground littered with broken glasses and brown and green bottles.

I placed my sword point downward, cupped hands around my mouth and yelled, "_Is there a problem here_?!"

Voices died as everyone turned to look at me and noticed the weapon with which I effected a casual lean. I met a few choice pairs of eyes, the most flushed and eager-looking of the individuals in the barroom.

"I think we're done for the night," I added, now that the room was quiet enough everyone could hear the sirens. Reno, lost in his own world, continued scuffling with the biggest, meanest, most-tattooed guy in the place, writhing and snarling in the man's bearhug.

"Leave now and avoid the rush," I said with a shrug, and did my best to sidestep the stampede that followed.

Someone punched Reno in the back of the head on the way out, knocking him to the ground. Reno howled in rage and pain, rolled and sprang back up with an uncharacteristic stumble. His head whipped around as he looked for his assailant.

Rude took the opportunity to stride forward and clamp his hand round the narrow man's shoulder. Reno whirled and his fist landed squarely in Rude's upheld glove. Reno panted, dropping his arm. Meanwhile I sidled between Reno and the lingering, glaring tattooed man. I gave him a pointed look and jerked my head at the door.

"Sorry, man," Reno said to Rude, shouting to be heard over the arriving sirens. "Guess I got a little excited."

As the tattooed man lumbered out, glaring back at the Turks, Reno flopped in one of the chairs so hard it overbalanced and tipped sideways. Reno lay gasping on the floor for a moment.

Rude stared down at him, then looked up at me. The sirens stopped just outside. Reno rolled onto his back with a groan and spotted me. He sat up, bracing himself on his hands. He gave me a grin and salute.

"They started it," he said. "Gave back as good as I got, though."

The door banged open. I turned with a sigh, setting my sword down on a table as I faced the WRO peacekeepers.

By the time I'd placated them and persuaded them yet again not to arrest Reno, Tifa still had not reappeared. I crossed to Rude, who was pouring Reno a glass of water behind the bar.

"_Whiskey_!" Reno shouted at him. "Are you fucking _deaf_?! Shit, man!"

Rude banged the glass down in front of Reno. Reno glared at Rude but picked up the glass.

"I can beat the shit out of you with one hand tied behind my back," said Reno. "Don't think I won't, partner."

"Where's Tifa?" I said to Rude.

Rude turned and walked toward the back without a word. I followed. He opened the door into the back room. Tifa sat with elbows braced on the desk, facing the wall. She didn't turn around when we came in or when I shut the door.

"They've all gone," I said. "Except Reno."

"Who's probably getting into the whiskey again," said Rude. "I'll drag his ass home."

Tifa didn't respond.

Rude stepped forward. "You okay, Tifa?" He extended his hand toward her, hesitated, glanced at me and let his arm drop.

Tifa sniffled. I felt instantly uncomfortable. Tifa isn't someone who cries. None of my friends are; we couldn't have survived that way. I couldn't imagine that something as stupid as Reno being an ass would bring Tifa to a loss of control. This wasn't my kind of fight, either. I'm not good with tears, my own or others'.

Tifa swiveled to face us, her expression a wreck, face blotchy. "I can't do this anymore," she whispered, looking from Rude to me. "I don't want to send him away, but I can't watch him tear this place apart again."

Rude shifted, looking uncomfortable. She fixed her gaze on him.

"I'm sorry, Rude," she murmured.

_It's disrespectful to her_, I realized, thinking it through. _Disrespectful to everything she's worked to achieve, her dreams, Denzel and Marlene. This is her home and her livelihood._

"I'll suggest somewhere else," I said. "And go with him, to try to keep him in one piece."

Tifa gave me a grateful look, tinged with worry. "Thank you. Do… do you think he'll be all right? …Ever?"

I shook my head, spread my hands. "I don't know." I left then. I had a purpose now, something I could do against those tears. I found Reno behind the bar, spinning on a stool he'd apparently dragged there, drinking directly from the whiskey bottle. I stood across the bar from him.

He stopped himself and leaned on the bar, grinning meanly at me. "Hey, Spiky. Join me for a drink."

"Yes," I said. "Not here. Not anymore. There's another place we can go."

"Fandamntastic. This place is dead." He hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over. As he dropped to the floor he stumbled and I caught him. Whiskey spilled on the floor.

He pouted at it. "Aw…"

"Leave it," I said, tugging his arm firmly.

"Ow, hey!" He flung off my hand with a glare. "I ain't your sword, delivery boy. Don't you swing me around. In fact, in fact…" he took a swig, "…don't even touch me anymore."

"Fine," I said, picking up my sword on the way out. "Reno, do you understand you can't come back to this bar?"

"Whatever," he said. "Place is too clean, anyway. People are too scared to see a real man around, a real fighter." He waggled his eyebrows at me and I realized he was trying to get a rise out of me.

I opened the bike housing to stash the sword core and climbed aboard. He looked at me, looked at the bike, looked at the bottle in his hand and drank more.

"We can't walk?" he said.

"Get _on_," I said impatiently.

He rolled his eyes, finished the bottle in one long gulp, and unsteadily swung his leg over. He fell against me, cursed, pushed himself physically away, and then settled a terribly light grip on my hips.

"You're gonna fall off, and I won't come back for you," I said. "Don't be a coward."

"Not a coward, I just hate your guts," he slurred, and fell off the bike. The empty bottle he still held tinkled to bits. I looked down at him. He was out cold, blood under his nose and across his eyebrow, much darker than his hair. Bruises were beginning to light up his pale skin.

I swung off the bike, threw him over my shoulder and carried him back upstairs to the guest room. I kicked a trash can over beside the new guest bed after dumping him on it.

I went downstairs and started sweeping up all the glass. I heard Rude and Tifa talking lowly in the back room, door still shut. I was glad of the distraction of cleaning, something I could control and deal with and fix. The broken things could easily be replaced. No one in our family hurt for money.

"Cloud?"

I whirled around, swinging the broom up in a futile gesture. Marlene danced back, behind me. I straightened and lowered the cleaning implement.

"What are you doing up?" I said.

She looked up at me with concern. "There was shouting. Is Tifa okay?"

I glanced at the back room briefly, then knelt down in front of Marlene. "She's fine, honey. Go back to bed."

Marlene shook her head and plucked restlessly at her pajamas, blue flannel covered with a rainbow of large-eyed running chocobos. "I can't. Denzel's snoring again."

I lifted an eyebrow. "That's never bothered you before."

Marlene fidgeted more. "…I miss Daddy."

I opened my arms and she stepped into them. I hugged her tight to me, then lifted her off the floor onto my hip. "C'mon, you. Guess without me around, you don't stay tucked, do you?" I carried her upstairs to the room she shared with Denzel. His snores were ridiculously light. I marveled that he could sleep through Reno-induced mayhem.

I laid Marlene down in her mess of covers. As I lifted them she swung her legs in. I settled blankets over her little body.

"Cloud, will you tell me a story? About Daddy?" she said softly.

I sat down on the bed beside her, took off my glove and reached out to hold her hand. I looked down at her tiny fingers against mine.

_That was the day I started taking off my gloves to hold hands_, I realized with a jolt, thinking back to the tea room. I frowned.

"Tell me about when Daddy stopped the train," Marlene suggested.

"I wasn't there," I reminded her. "Captain Cid tells you that story, remember?"

She pouted. "Then tell me another story. Tell me about when he helped you rescue Aerith."

I smiled sardonically. _A story that begins with Reno breaking shit and hurting a lot of people. Appropriate._ I cleared my throat. "Once upon a time…"

"Cloud! Tell it _right_!"

I rolled my eyes. "Such an unforgiving audience. Fine. Three years ago, when Midgar still stood under the reign of Shinra, they wanted to find a way to the Promised Land, because they believed it was full of Mako energy. They sought out the last of the Cetra in the hopes she could lead them there, or some study of her would show the way. Her name was Aerith…"


	4. Chapter 4

**_Reno_**

_I still can't get the taste of that goddamn brandy out of my mouth. It's like drain cleaner. I've scrubbed my teeth until the cold air hurts them and still my stomach roils that battery-acid taste into the back of my throat._

_I can't sleep._

_I peel back the covers tucked over my head. The air feels like a rain of spears. I snatch my rumpled jacket off the floor and drag it into my cave of blankets, sealing it up again. My breath fills the bubble under the sheet with a horrifying alcohol smell but I don't care, at least it keeps me warm. Which is more than I could say for the drink I was regretting more every moment._

_I rummage in my pocket. A touch on the side of my phone lights up the display._

_'02:37'_

_I scowl. My fingernail flicks over the red plastic case. I feel so twitchy. I shouldn't do it, but I press the buttons, and I put my hand over my eyes and give myself a good hard hate for not being able to control myself. The phone rings._

_"Mmmhello?" she answers in a thick, sleepy voice._

_"Sorry, did I wake you?" I say stupidly._

_"Mm-mm," she lies. "Are you okay?"_

_I feel like shit. Of course I'm okay. Except for being the most pathetic man on the face of the planet, insomniac as a fucking two-year-old missing his teddy bear._

_"What's wrong, Reno?" Her voice is clearer now, worry evident._

_"Nothing. Go back to sleep." I hang up, flushed with shame. The PHS instantly rings. I flip it open with a wince. "Told you to go back to sleep, Bami."_

_"I'm lonely too. How cold is it in Icicle Inn?"_

_I huddle around the source of her voice, curled into a ball. "I don't know if my testicles will ever come out of hiding again."_

_She snickers. "I'll have to think of a way to lure them. Hands and mouth usually work best."_

_"…I hate this."_

_"I know. I'm sorry. No sooner do I get back from a business trip then you get sent away. It sucks being highly effective, doesn't it?"_

_"In a world of moronic underachieving mouth-breathers? Damn right it does."_

_"Well… it could be worse. I could be there instead of you."_

_"This is the first place we ever slept together."_

_"I remember."_

_"You really fuckin' freaked me out that night."_

_"I did? How?"_

_"I don't sleep with girls."_

_She cackles, and her laugh goes on and on._

_"No, I fuck girls, but don't sleep with them. I liked waking up alone. I don't have that—BAM! Good morning, consequences!—rude awakening, you know?"_

_She's trying to compose herself, and snorts. "Heh. 'Rude awakening.' Is that where he spits in your ear to get you out of bed after a night of heavy drinking?"_

_I roll my eyes._

_"But seriously—you just didn't like getting caught, did you, Lyrant?"_

_"…Yeah." I uncurl onto my back. Every part of me is stiff. I reach down. "What are you wearing?"_

_"More than I'd like. Your bed is cold without you in it."_

_"Well, take it off," I say peevishly. "I'll warm you up, just do what I tell you."_

_I hear her rustling and grin, shutting my eyes, thinking of the way she strips when she's cold and under the covers. She's like a purple snake, writhing, shedding. I tug on myself, shiver and bring my hand up to moisten it with saliva._

_"You know," she says, still audibly moving around, "there are things I find distasteful in every other human being that in you are sexy. The sound of you spitting, for example, makes me wet, instead of disgusted."_

_"'Cause I do it with style, babe. Everything I do is designed to make you crazy with lust for me."_

_"I wonder why all the trouble—all you have to do is look at me and I want to rip your clothes off. Speaking of—"_

_"Not a fucking chance, it's freezing here!"_

_"You're really sleeping fully clothed? Shoes and everything?"_

_"Not sleeping. Masturbating. Are you naked yet?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Good. God fucking damn, woman, you should always be naked."_

_"Oh, I don't think so—you want me leaving the house with no clothes on?"_

_"No. I wanna stay in and fuck you all day."_

_She lets out this stuttering moan and I twitch in my hand. "I miss you so bad, Reno."_

_"I miss you too, babe. Touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are for me."_

_"Turn on a faucet, it'll be drier."_

_"Fantastic. You're such a tight little Bami, sometimes it's murder getting into you."_

_"So why do you persist?"_

_"'Cause you're fucking MINE, that's why!"_

_"Oooh, I love it when you're possessive."_

_I growl, breathing hard through my nose._

_After a while, head spinning, I stretch and groan pleasurably. I wish I had her mouth to kiss._

_"You taste better than brandy," I say sleepily._

_"…Thanks?" she says._

_"Aw, _fuck_!" I say._

_"What?" she says._

_"I came on my motherfucking jacket!"_

_She _screams_ with laughter._

_"Not funny, Bami!" I hiss, trying to rub out the stains. "Damn it, damn it, _damn it_!"_

_She won't stop laughing._

_"Fuck you!" I snarl._

_"Yes please!" she manages._

_I shove the jacket out under the covers in a rage, unwilling to even look at my mistake anymore. "You see what you do to me? Huh? Bitch."_

_"You sweet talker, you."_

_"Hey, shut up, I just gave you an orgasm with my voice."_

_"True." She pauses. "I miss you, Lyrant."_

_"Miss you too."_

_"Oh, I arranged things with scheduling and next month when you're in Rocket Town I'll be there for two of the three days. How does that sound?"_

_I grin. "Perfect. Ever had sex in a chopper?"_

_"No. …You're not going to be _flying_ it, are you?"_

_"I'll have you know I'm a _fantastic_ pilot."_

_"You're going to kill us!"_

_"Hell of a way to die, don't you think?"_

"NOOO!" I screamed, thrashing awake, my mind filled with fiery airship debris. My heart spun like a top in my chest. It was dark, but not cold. I gasped for breath, feeling like I was choking, still feeling the weight of all those covers pressing on top of me, not to mention the memory itself.

"Lyrant?" Schala rolled over beside me in bed. I gasped and grabbed for her. I curled my limbs around her, rocking her in my grasp.

"I dreamed you were dead," I sobbed into her shoulder. "You were dead and I remembered calling you from Icicle Inn…"

Her hands stroked me. "Everything's all right, my love."

"Ohh, god!" I shut my eyes tight, inhaling her scent hard. "No, not all right! Don't do that to me!" I pulled back to glare at her. My throat seized; I was holding her burned, mangled body, her glassy eyes staring up like sightless doll eyes.

I screamed, but couldn't wake out of this nightmare. I screamed again, the body vanished, my head spun. I scrambled out of bed but didn't quite make it to the bathroom before I threw up my liquid dinner.

It tasted and smelled even worse than the brandy.

**_Tseng_**

As soon as I stepped in my office I felt the intruder. I didn't react right away. Since it hadn't moved immediately I went to my desk and opened the bottom drawer.

My gun was gone. I reached for the letter opener, a serpentine dagger with a pewter garnet-eyed dragon on the handle. As I bent over my desk my eyes flicked around the room, looking for movement in the deepest shadows. A particular quality to the silence behind me made me whirl around, dagger coming up.

Two gun barrels hove into view right past the end of my nose—my own gun and a thick triple-barrel affair. He stood in silhouette in front of the closed blinds. I exhaled, lowering the dagger, and held out my free hand. My jade-handled pistol dropped into my fingers.

"I suppose it would have been too inconvenient for you to make an appointment?" I said, seating myself. I gestured to the chair across from me. "Tea?"

Vincent Valentine holstered his gun and circled the desk. To my shock he actually sat down. I picked up my teacup and saucer, my ginger tea finally cool enough to drink. His leather pants squeaked noisily as he crossed one knee over the other.

I noticed that one of the pieces of paper on my desk had been folded into an origami crane. I hid my smile inside the rim of my cup as I drank.

"Even devoid of the majority of your hierarchy, Shinra still manages distressing amounts of intramural ignorance," said Vincent. "Your people are turning up dead at the four corners of the world, for no greater offense than questioning requisition orders."

I lifted an eyebrow at him. "You put too much stock in rumor, Valentine."

"You put too much stock in your boss's word, Tseng," he countered.

I set down my cup. "I must admit, I have heard… unsettling things as of late."

"As have I."

We stared across my desk in silence for a while like two cats, each crouched and awaiting the other's move.

"The science division has been destroying records," Vincent said, rising. "That's all for now. I expect you have work to do. I'll be in touch."

"You don't want anything in return?" I said mildly.

He snorted, walked over to the window, and pulled up the blinds without a word. He pulled the latch, swung open a panel of glass, and leaped out. I shook my head.

_Such an ostentatious person_, I thought.

I unfurled the paper crane and shivered. It was a request for additional security officers to be assigned to Nibelheim. I disliked seeing anything going on in that town. The president had maintained our medical research division there over my strenuous objections, stating that in order to accept the future Shinra had to move on from the past.

_There's moving on… and there is forgetting_, I thought, sipping more tea to settle my uneasy stomach. I didn't like the sound of 'destroying records.' _…I will never forget._

**_Cloud_**

"So… wait. _Where_ is he?" I said into my phone, twisting around to scan a dirty unfamiliar barroom. It seemed dead-quiet and remarkably empty for the neighborhood and time of evening.

"Where are you?" Rude's voice shouted over yelling on his end of the line.

"I'm… I'm at the Dragon & Dolphin," I said, wondering if I'd misunderstood the name of the place. "Third district." As I approached the bar I heard shouting and my steps quickened.

"_What_?!" Rude yelled, trying to be heard over the commotion.

I flipped my PHS shut and pushed out the side door into the alley. And that's where everyone was. The door fell into my frozen shoulder as I had a series of epiphanies about the name of the place and why the bar itself seemed so dead.

An unusually broad delivery alley for the location filled with crates for spectators to perch on, and featured a large metal fence at the far end for the combatants to use as they saw fit. Reno, barefoot and bare-chested, crawled up and down it like a cat. I would have thought his long hair would have been a handicap, but the ponytail never seemed to be where his opponent was grabbing.

Years of fighting have imprinted Reno with uncanny skills. Tifa, as best as I can figure out, developed them more out of boredom and the physical philosophy of the discipline. Reno fights like he learned it to stay alive. Like an alley cat. Like the leader of a gang. When he's in his suit, when he's on the job and lounging around, it's clear that he's still this, underneath, ready to spring.

When you're a fighter you know what to look for. I think a lot of people in that alley wanted to be what he was. He knew it, too, which hurt to watch. He knew he was better than them, but instead of teaching them, he just hurt them. A lot. He was making everyone else pay for what he felt inside. A conflagration, filling the alley, unalleviated by periodic glitters of cure magic.

The only other person not drunk, whooping and egging on the fighters, stood against the wall with folded arms. I looked over at Rude. Rude just watched. He watched his friend coming apart while the spectators cheered unknowing. I looked from him to Reno's nasty, intense eyes and with a sudden bitter sharpness I understood Tifa a lot more than I ever wanted to.

I turned and went back inside, letting the door fall shut on all the noise. I went to the bar and ordered a rare drink. After a moment I felt his approach and gestured to the stool next to me.

People who are inordinately quiet get underestimated a lot. It proves to the advantage of fighters like me, like Vincent, like Rude. Unfortunately it frustrates our friends and can make us hard to understand. But I'm loyal to those that do understand.

There's a lot I don't need to ask, it's really plain if you've got eyes. But there was one thing that I just didn't know. After a couple of glasses it kind of worked its way out.

"Rude."

He was still on his first glass of something purple and small. He twisted his shades to point at me, thoughtful scowl not entirely hidden.

"You cared about her too," I said. "Is that because of what she was to Reno? Or is it something else?"

He quickly looked away as the question started, and I saw his jaw clench, but he didn't withdraw from it. I knew I just had to wait. Being someone who doesn't talk much myself, I know how it goes. Words are something we have to work at, and we rarely do it if it just doesn't matter. Not a lot does.

He inhaled, his whole body lifting, and after he sighed it left him even more sunken than before.

"I would have cared about her even if he didn't. She was that kind of girl. The kind that need appreciating. But I remember Reno before her." He looked over at me again. "Did you see how many women were out there, watching?"

"…Women?" I felt bewildered.

"I thought not. Neither did Reno. But I don't want to be around when he notices. I can't watch him do to her memory what I know he will. It's only a matter of time." He swallowed the rest of his glass in one gulp and got up. "See you, Cloud."

I watched him stride away, dumbfounded. Even I can't suck all the air out of the room with what I say like he can. He's been around longer, maybe seen more, but still. I shook my head and finished my drink. _I don't think I want to know._

**_Reno_**

I barely saw him, a momentary flash of blonde in the doorway, but I remembered grinning and showing off my moves more. A taunt.

_I hope you come back out here_, I thought. _You rat bastard, you can't take it, can you? Fuck you, you little weakling. See? I'm not like you. Moody little bitch, moping over Aerith for three fucking years, already._

I punched and bit harder, wishing the body writhing in my grasp was Cloud's.

_He's too much of a coward to fight barehanded. Always needs that fucking sword of his, the pussy. Yeah, I'd be that badass if I lugged around a fucking sword bigger than me too. What makes everyone think that asshole is so much more special than me?_

_Why does everyone gotta love Cloud and not me? I only get one fucking perfect, and now she's gone. So what? So is that it? I don't think so._

_Goddamn it, I'm still fucking awesome! I'm at the top of my game! Even drunk as all fuck I can still take on this whole alley of yahoos. Who else can say that? Not even Tifa, I bet!_

_Not Cloud, that's for sure. Has he ever even been drunk? Little fucker. I hope he comes back out here so I can beat the shit out of him._

It started to rain.

And then, like a veil had been pulled, it happened.

The alley was yanked away.

_I don't know what started the fight. To be honest I don't care. I know what words needle her and I don't mean them. She fights too much with words, and I don't give a shit about words, so there's always a little dicey area where we're trying to fight in each other's language for a minute._

_Thing is, mine's better and she knows it. She's fantastic with talk but she gives in to my way. She doesn't want to win, she wants to placate, she wants everyone to like her and be friends. With physical fighting it ain't like that. Boundaries are straightforward. This is my body, this is my space, back the fuck off or get your ass handed to you._

_Once any conflict gets translated into hand-to-hand, we establish dominance and then that's it. End of discussion. I always win, so I'm motivated to turn a verbal discussion into a physical one. And because she wants to give in, she does._

_It pisses me off, because I don't want to win because she let me. If I get the sense she's doing that I walk out of the apartment and don't come back for a few hours, and she knows I mean business. She hasn't let me win yet this time but she's giving me hits, and I pin her to the wall and give her a warning look._

_"This isn't a game," I tell her. "It's your life. Mean it. Fucking fight me for it, already."_

_She starts crying, and goddamn that hurts and I want to give in, but I don't, and it pays off. Because this is the day she finally beats me._

_She grows a pair. She means it. She pounds my face into the floor of the dojo we specifically had built as more than half our flat in Edge for just this reason. I was setting the stage for the day she would realize that she has this power._

_And today she does it. Goddamn it if it isn't the proudest moment I've ever felt. It makes everything worth it._

_There were nights I stayed in the bathroom for hours, pretending it was something to do with my hair but really just curled into a ball trying to figure out if I'd turned into my father yet. It's fucking brutal to hit anyone who is already crying, let alone the person you love more than anything in the whole fucking world, the person you would blow it all up for. To realize that if I let up on her when she's crying I will hurt her more, leaving her not knowing how to defend herself when she needs it the most._

_'Cause she would give up when she cries, or she used to. It was her final attack. And she is fucking beautiful at it. In the face of those tears I felt like Sephiroth. I felt like a monster that I would bring so forgiving a creature to cry._

_But the thing is, real monsters don't stop at tears. In fact it makes them excited because they know they've won, and they love the power trip. I had to teach her—not to not cry, but to make crying a part of it while still going for their gonads. Nothing throws a real predator like appearing to lose control while not actually losing it._

_That's why we're better. We've been there, where you just turn into a ball of instincts and biting—or in her case, dissociation and despair—but we've overcome it and learned how to think when everything in our bodies is trying to take over and tell the brain to take a backseat._

_That's the real battle, the one that's never seen, body and brain. And it goes on all the time, one testing the other. Most people aren't aware of it. Their loss, because that's what life is all about, that daily fight._

_So I fought my head to try to reason why I'm not my old man, hitting her even when she's crying, even when I feel worse than low for it, because she won't fucking tap out._

_Aside from early on in our training, before the first time we had sex, she no longer taps out, which also makes me nuts. She is so stubborn she will lose consciousness and I don't know it. Scared the shit out of me more than once. I had to adjust my style because she doesn't know when she's had too much. And she won't back off. That's how I knew I could teach her to win, really._

_I don't know if other teachers feel like this. I've never taught anyone before. It just kind of evolved, I guess. I learned more than she did, because no one ever taught me how to do what I do. I had to glue her lessons together from all my years of fighting and watching other people. To give structure to a process that was drawn-out and often abusive, in order that teaching her wouldn't be that kind of abuse but would still give her the strength I got from it._

_Teaching her makes me think about how I learned, which is a large part of who I am. Maybe the largest part. It's scary trying to condense that much of me and give it to another person, but I think the worst part of that is how fast she gets it. How quickly she digests me, like all my years of hurt and trauma are just peanuts to her. She absorbs it all in one go. Nothing about me is new or flashy or unique. She swallows everything that went into making my personality without so much as a blink._

_So at first that pisses me off, that she doesn't react to shit that hurt me so bad. And now I've realized that she really does react, but her brain overcomes her response and saves it up for later. Even in the face of trauma she has that fight and wins, when I just come unspooled and start kicking people in the face._

_I don't know if she quite understands what I see, that she has the power to be a fierce fighter like me and still have what she has, that presence of mind. For the moment, she has beat the shit out of me, and I'm so happy I forget to tap out and just lose consciousness._

_I come back with her sitting on top of me, looking horrified, her hands pouring icy-cold green Lifestream into me. And I just fucking beam at her._

_"Look at what you did!" I cry joyfully. "God damn! You fucking did it, Bami! YOU BEAT ME! Now TAKE your reward!"_

_"You asshole, you scared me!" She slugs me, and it hurts so wonderfully across my jaw. I can't stop laughing, even in the face of her panting, flushed fury. She's fucking gorgeous to me, never more so than in that moment._

_The Lifestream coming out of her always heals us as we fight but we still get quite bloodied, and her face is smeared with the red I did to her. I know mine is a fucking sight, too, and that makes it even better._

_"You're… you…" She curls her fingers into my flesh, staring into my eyes. "I _beat_ you." Her eyes widen as she realizes it._

_"Yessss," I hiss through my teeth. "Feel that? Doesn't it feel good?"_

_She shudders. "I beat you, fair and square. I didn't have to be a monster."_

_I nodded. "You're better than that. You win. You ALWAYS win, even if you lose, when you don't play like a monster. And now you beat me. What are you gonna do?"_

_She shivered, hard. "I don't know. What am I supposed to do? I don't usually care, when I beat other people who are really trying to hurt me, I just leave them knocked out. It feels good—but not this good, holy fuck."_

_"'Cause you beat someone worth beating."_

_She frowns thoughtfully. "You? Or me?"_

_I grin. "Whatever you prefer."_

_She looks up at the ceiling, inhaling. She's naked except for her underwear. It's how we fight best, and another really good reason for why we have a dojo in our apartment. And the primary reason why is about to happen, too. But I'm patient. It's her first win, and I've yielded to her entirely._

_There is nothing, nothing in the entire world like unarmed combat followed by furious lovemaking with the same damn partner. You can't imagine it. I couldn't imagine it. It's a fusion of all the most peak experiences in my life, all happening with one person. The one who can stand it all and give back as good as she gets. The one who now is holding me pinned to the floor with nothing more than my own anticipation of her even looking at me._

_Now that she's finished having the personal private moment of triumph I know she has fucking earned, she looks down at me. It's the same green eyes I've been looking at almost every day for eight months now since the day we met, finding in my bed when I wake up, peeking around the edge of my shower curtain in the morning when my singing wakes her up._

_But these eyes are very different, and they'll never be the same. She's looking at someone she has physically defeated, with the knowledge of that possibility giving her so much more strength and surety in her gaze. It didn't matter how many times I yielded to her in other ways, she was never going to look at me like this, like I realize now I so badly wanted her to._

_I have never wanted so fucking much to lose to someone in all my life. I can't even describe the intensity of what I feel right now, being under her in every way. I belong to her, so much so I can't even make a sound if she doesn't allow it, looking to her with every sense in me to know what she wants of me, in this moment when she looks down at me, victorious in my loss to her. Everything that I am she possesses in her eyes._

_She smiles and I can breathe again. I am worthy. Though I'm her teacher, I had to pass her test too. The test to be the one she loves, the one she takes off the last of her armor to, even as she's taking off her purple underwear right now. She lets me under her skin and then I get to possess her totally in a way no one else ever will. And now she gets to do that to me as well. And I don't even mind. Not when giving over what I've so fiercely guarded means fights and subsequent orgasms like these._

_This is why I never wanted a relationship, they're all such bullshit. So much talking, goddamn. Even I get tired of the talking. And not nearly enough sex to keep me interested._

_It never occurred to me that physical fighting could be part of a healthy relationship. For me it was out of the question, so I rarely win in fights because I'm not the best at fights with words and I wouldn't hit a girl I'm fucking or trying to fuck. Other than a sexy smack or five on the ass, I mean, come on. But this is in the realm of something else entirely._

_For me fighting has its own set of rules, its own mindset and costuming and behavior, and overlapping any of that with fucking at first seemed, with good reason given my aim to not become my father, totally abhorrent. Not because it doesn't follow naturally that when my blood gets running and I'm peaking in a fight, I want to peak in other ways. After a good fight I usually need an equally good shower and wank regardless, but I look on that as part and parcel with the cure magic and the learning part of it, you know?_

_Actually inviting someone else along for the sexual release afterward—having it be the person you just fought—not even bothering to change locations—the fight and the sex get tangled, and I realize that the fighting can be teaching and also foreplay. Goddamn. Like a whole new fucking world._

_The way she takes me right now is just beyond description. Even for me, and I'm really vivid when it comes to dirty details. I just hang on and enjoy the ride. It was a long time coming._

_Later on, she asks, "…What were we fighting about?"_

_I shrug. "Some bullshit. Same as always."_

_She giggles. "I just wanted to try to remember, so you'll be easier to beat next time."_

_I grin and chew on her ear. "I'll _never_ be easy, Schala. You're going to have to fucking work that hard for it every time."_

_"I hope so." She sighs into my arms. "I really understand now what Rude means when he says, 'Bored seems a lot more fun when you haven't been it in years.' He's a fucking pussy, though, goddamn."_

_I'm laughing even before she finishes speaking, and at the end I'm cackling so hard I'm curled into a little ball, crying. I have never, ever, ever heard anything funnier about Rude in my life, and I've been partners with the motherfucker for eight years. You hear all kinds of bullshit about people who don't speak up to defend themselves and I have nailed quite a few faces into the pavement for making assumptions where they had no business making them._

_I think that's what makes Schala a goddamn riot, personally, and it's not something you'd guess from the outside. She's so sweet and open, it's easy to think it's because she's superficial. I mean, just look at her—the way she looks, her scrawny body, that elegant long blue hair and draping purple clothes, always ready for a ball. You'd think she can't get her hands dirty, and doesn't know how people really work, all the nasty shit that goes on underneath._

_But she gets it. And that's all that really matters. I think she should be in charge, personally, but I'm biased. I've known Reeve too long. Anyone that survives in politics as long as he has must be made of oil. Only possible way. He has to lubricate the parts of politics that actually have personal integrity and stay on one goddamn side at a time._

_I guess in that way it's for the best she ain't in charge. It'd turn her dishonest. And I like her just the way she is, an honest fighter, an honest fucker, an honest girl. Last shred of honesty in this nutso world, and it's all mine._

Coming back to the present I found I was throwing up my own blood, taking a brutal punishment from some drunk back-alley punk who was driving his newfound and unearned advantage home. I'm an asshole but I don't deserve the murderous pounding I was getting.

I nearly broke the fucker's neck to get him off me. I threw them all aside in a surly rage, snatched the first bottle I saw, gave its protesting owner the full wrath of my eyes and then leaned my head against the brick wall and drank. The rain had stopped after wetting everything down and making the alley reek to high heaven.

Some bitch had the nerve to touch me. No one has the right to do that after a goddamn fight, I don't care who they are, and any girl hanging around guys fighting should know better, so I still don't feel sorry for punching her in the eye. A couple of the guys raised a stink, probably 'cause she howled like a prissy spoiled brat. At any rate she didn't come back after that night.

Someone quietly passed me more booze when I finished the bottle in my fist. The second one was clear.

"Thanks," I managed to whoever it was.

Instead of a response the guy offered his hand. I clasped it and frowned as he pulled away his fingers, but not something plastic he'd clutched there. I twisted my body so the light fell on my hand and I could see what he'd slipped me.

My mouth fell open. I turned, my unsteady gaze and memory unable to pick out my benefactor, who'd just palmed me a substantial amount of red Mover dust. I shifted further down the wall from everyone else, pinched a bit out of the bag and inhaled.

The world came into _sharp_ focus.

I glanced over my shoulder and realized I had no need for secrecy. There were tracks of blood even under the noses of the girls, as well as the willowy guys not in the fights. I saw the fighters' facial skin pulled tight over prominent bones, their eyes like disks of black even when not currently involved, their fingers and feet beating urgent rhythms against every surface.

The whole pack of them were spinning-up. Most had both the ease and edge of a daily maintain about them. I realized I had been the only one drunk but not high while fighting, and that this must have been a source of great amusement to everyone. All in a moment, I saw it all.

_Goddamn._ I grinned to myself, took another snort from the bag, stashed it where even the glassiest of eyes wouldn't spot it, and walked back into the fight. Which had suddenly gotten a lot more interesting, and helped pound out of my treacherous head the fucking flashback I'd just had.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Tifa_**

I never appreciated the quiet until that brief moment in time when it was gone. I run an honest establishment. Seventh Heaven earns its name. It's the rest at the end of the world for those of us who've been there, as most people who relax here are. We don't need to talk, we say more without words, just nods and glances.

Reno rarely drank in here before she died. In fact, the only nights I saw him were when she was out of town on business, and the rare times he'd come out he'd sit crammed against the wall at the end of the bar. He'd talk to me and to Rude, but only if we spoke first. The only exception was if she was getting in very late, and those nights I could usually find him leading an asinine drunken sing-a-long perched on top of that rickety table with the short leg Cloud kept promising to fix.

But for the weeks after her death—oh boy. I thought I was going to have to rebuild from the ground up. There were nights I looked into Reno's eyes and wanted to kill him, and not like a mercy kill, either. When he hurt people and wrecked my place with Denzel and Marlene just upstairs he aroused in me feelings I only really had about Sephiroth. I forgot Reno's a person. I forgot about Schala, about all his hurt.

To be fair it was because I'd gotten used to the way Cloud grieves, and adopted a similar style. It's just easier, and quieter, and the furniture didn't need replacing. Just a pillow every now and then that got squeezed and screamed into a little too hard. Looking at him and seeing my face in the mirror every day I forgot that not everyone grieves our way.

I got lost in the countertop that day. Sometimes I clean until I wear away the finish.

_I remember it took me forever to get to the ladies' lounge. So many people! And everyone seemed to want to talk to me. I don't know why. I would smile and nod and not get a word in edgewise. Everyone had such grand plans and purposes for the future, many of them already drunk on the free-flowing sparkling red wine to celebrate the first-ever WRO-Shinra Summit._

_The first day of the three-day affair had been full of grand speeches as well as technical talks on energy, environmental concerns, transportation, communication, and urban redevelopment. My head spun. Cid and Barret had been part of panel talks and were mobbed off to the side by a number of eager young engineers and hangers-on._

_Finally I gained the lounge and booked it into one of the stalls to begin the tense process of peeling up the dress I wore. I rarely wear them and so tend to pick unfortunate designs that aren't practical._

_Not at all like Schala, wearer of long dresses in the middle of the day. She'd worn this deep purple off-shoulder intense affair with a number of high slits. It became clear this quirk was designed in expressly to make the skirt perfect for dancing with Reno._

_I had no idea—_no_ idea the man could tango like that. It was a truly awesome sight. Girls in the lounge were chattering hungrily about him, his eyes, his tux with the purple iris to match her dress. I think the sight of him with his shirt tucked and buttoned, a goddamn bowtie and tails was nearly as eye-opening for me as the dancing. Although having known a large number of people that man murdered by dropping the Plate on Sector Seven, I will never understand his appeal._

_The girls' laughter suddenly cut off, and in precipitous silence I heard heels clicking on the tile floor. Water ran._

_"Good evening," said Schala's voice._

_"Why, hello," said a crafty female voice. I scowled, disliking the tone. "I wouldn't have thought you'd use the same restroom as us mortals."_

_"Yeah, aren't you above body needs?" said another girl._

_"I'm just as human as you are," said Schala, sounding surprised._

_"You certainly don't look it," said the first woman, and I heard several footsteps now. "Doesn't matter how fancy your dress is or how much makeup you wear—just look at you. Go on, look."_

_"That ridiculous hair," said another._

_"Such a stupid color," said a third._

_"And just look at your enormous hips."_

_"And those walleyed breasts."_

_"Giving yourself airs with that expensive dress your far superior boyfriend paid for, and you can't even dance."_

_"You're not even a politician—no one elected you—so what gives you the right to make speeches like yours today? How dare you lecture us?"_

_"All you are is a party trick in a mean, ugly body."_

_"That's the only reason he's with you, you know. Your position. You may fool the stupid masses oh-so-grateful you healed them, but he's smart enough to see through you."_

_"You're nothing more than a fake. And he knows it. I mean, look at him—he's Reno of the Turks."_

_"Second most gorgeous and eligible man in the world."_

_"How could you satisfy him? You're so ugly next to him, I nearly lost my dinner watching you two together."_

_The water had shut off. I was hurriedly struggling to pull my dress down. Even during the brief breaks in the pack's harangue of her, Schala said nothing._

_"Oh, look at you, you pathetic little bitch! You look like you're gonna cry! You're no match for Reno! Do him a favor and get yourself lost. He's probably sick of the sight of you."_

_"…Excuse me, please…" Schala whispered roughly, and I heard the girls burst into laughter and running footfalls as I opened the stall door. Much as I wanted to haul off and punch in every one of their smug self-satisfied smirks, I ran after Schala instead._

_She was fast in her heels, and I tripped in mine, being unused to punishing footwear. I saw her vanish down a hall in the newly-minted convention center. I reached it just in time to hear a heavy side door swing shut. It took a few tries to find the right one and discover her in the sodium-lit alley. She was turned to face the brick wall, half-hidden in shadow, her dress dark as the sea._

_"Schala," I said, approaching._

_She flinched at the sound of my voice, her pale shoulders hunching. "Please go away," she whispered thickly._

_I hesitated. "Schala…"_

_"You think he's too good for me too, don't you?!" she snarled, sounding like a cornered, abused animal. "You think I don't know it? You think I didn't know it the first time I saw him, let alone saw him fight? Fucking hell, Tifa, I know what I am, what I've done! I know I don't deserve him!"_

_I gaped at her back. "That's… that's why you didn't defend yourself? You think those bitches are right? Schala…" I shook my whirling head, unable to believe her level of self-delusion. "None of what those women said was true. They're jealous of you because they know you're a far better person than them. Prettier, too, inside and out. If anything, the opposite is true. You deserve far better than that arrogant bastard _Reno_, believe me."_

_The other thing her slit skirt made possible was high roundhouse kicks. I was wholly unprepared for the force of her fury, spun round by her sharp heel connecting with my jaw. I slammed into the wall. My fists came up instinctively, but I was off-guard, startled, in a sausage tube of a dress._

_She quickly had me on the ground, kneeling on my abdomen, my arms pinned. I stared up at her, spreadeagled and openmouthed. I couldn't believe what had just happened. Until that moment I had no idea she could even fight, and in my surprise and dress I had no chance to defend or even decide if I should._

_Her furious twisted expression melted. She reached up to my face. Her hands lit up with green. I felt soothing cool energy wash away the pain she'd caused. She climbed off me and reached a hand down to me. Even with her assistance I had to struggle to right myself._

_"Moral of the story:" she said, "…don't _ever_ disrespect Reno to my face."_

_As I straightened I saw the side door standing open behind her. Speak of the devil, her redheaded lover stood frozen with wide eyes and mouth in the doorway._

_"Gotcha," I said to Schala, grinning in amusement._

_"That…" Reno said loudly, making her whirl in surprise, "was the _hottest_ fucking thing I've ever seen!" He strode toward her at high speed, letting the door fall shut with a bang. His arms came up to grab the small of her back and curve of her jaw, and he yanked her into a passionate mouth-open tongue-dueling kiss. He buried his face in her neck._

_"I want you so bad," he hissed, kissing urgently under her ear._

_She groaned, her face tightening in sweet-looking agony. "Let's get out of here."_

_"I can't wait…!" he said shakily._

_Her hands, sliding up him, suddenly flew up to grasp his hair. She yanked his head backward. He hissed sharply, almost a muffled scream. His wide turquoise eyes fixed on her._

_Her gaze drifted over his face. She leaned in to nuzzle his neck, the tip of her tongue appearing along the shell of his ear's cartilage._

_"You can wait for me," she said._

_"Yes…!" he gasped._

_Without changing her facial expression she pulled more, forcing him to his knees in the alley. I stared in aroused fascination. I had never seen Reno submissive before, nor Schala anything but accommodating and quiet. Perhaps the novelty of it was what excited me. It was certainly a night for shocking revelations as far as the two of them were concerned._

_"I'll… make it… worth your while," she murmured, leaning over his face, releasing his hair with one hand to trail down pale throat and hook in black bowtie._

_"Anything you say, babe," he groaned, grinning._

_She smiled slyly, her eyes growing shiny. She swayed in that final bit to kiss him. When she released her grasp of him he swept her up in his arms and carried her at a near run down the side of the building and out of sight, trailing coattails, panels of purple fabric, her blue waves of hair and his long red ponytail._

_I leaned against the wall and let out a shaky sigh. I felt a profound need to leave as well, and find the nearest cold shower._

A leather glove touched the area of Seventh Heaven's counter I was destroying with my erosion, startling me back to the present. I looked up into a pair of mirrors and saw myself smile in them.

"Hi," I said. "What can I get you?"

Rude sat down. "Tea. …Would be nice."

The extra effort of words and the way he spoke them told me a lot. His quiet was different than Cloud's. I enjoyed our poker nights, even though he was slowly draining all my tip money each month. Getting to know his silences, and what minute expressions are discernible around those omnipresent shades, tested my detail-assessing fighter skills that had fallen into disuse.

By the time I made the tea I could tell he was still not ready, so I gave him his space and continued cleaning, near but not too near.

"Tifa."

I finished attaching the pour spout to a bottle of florescent Mideel melon liqueur. As I set it down I checked out of the corner of my eye to make sure the other man drinking at the bar was topped up and wouldn't be interrupting. I poured myself a cup of tea as well.

"I don't know what to do," he said.

My eyes flicked up at those shades.

"Tell me," he said. "What am I supposed to do?"

I frowned down into my cup and sighed. He waited.

"Reno's… not Cloud," I said. "Even if he was… I don't know, Rude. I did what I could. I gave him space. I let him know he wasn't alone, when I thought that was okay. But he pulled away a lot. I saw it tearing him apart. There wasn't anything I could do. I…" I paused, my mouth twisting up. I didn't want to share too much. It didn't feel right. I looked again at his face.

The clay cup fell out of my fingers and shattered on the floor. Rude had taken off his sunglasses while I wrestled with my words. My hands flew up to cover my open mouth. I had never seen his eyes in all the years I'd known him. Even fighting him, those things stayed on like they were glued on.

Without them on his gaze looked so wretched and lost. I saw all this anguish pouring out of him, anguish I knew very well from my own heart, that I'd never seen validated or mirrored anywhere else.

In a flash it all came back, particularly those early days after Meteorfall, when I wanted to talk and Cloud wanted nothing to do with me. Crying in the shower and drinking first thing in the morning for the first time in my life. Even after Nibelheim was destroyed it had never been like that inside me. But I had no option not to be strong, it wasn't part of who I was.

Barret and Marlene became my lifeline. I feel like a horrible person for saying so, but I needed Marlene more than she needed me. I put a lot of pressure on Barret to leave her with me, just so I wouldn't be alone when I realized I couldn't take traveling around with him and Cloud anymore.

Years had put some distance between me and those brutal nights, when I learned how to cry silently into Marlene's hair while I comforted her so she wouldn't know. Nights when I'd call him, sometimes unable to help it, and hang up when it went to voicemail. I didn't know what to say anymore. I didn't know what to do.

Nothing was as easy as when we thought the morning would bring the end of the world. Thinking there will be a day after complicates things. You can't live for the moment when after it comes another, and the price must be paid, the hangover must be endured.

I grabbed Rude's hand and pulled him around, lifting the pass-through panel of the bar. He stumbled after me as I dragged him down the hall to the back room. I shut the door behind us with rather more force than necessary and pushed him against it. He looked so shocked. I think that was both the worst and best part of it.

I leaned into him, so close I could see the variance in the color of his brown irises. "After Cloud fell into the Lifestream at the Northern Crater," I said, "he washed up in Mideel, catatonic. Aerith had just died, Sephiroth had forced Cloud to give him the Black Materia and summoned Meteor. I stayed by Cloud's side while everyone else was running around trying to save the world. I made my choice. Then after Ultimate Weapon attacked Mideel, the earth cracked open and Cloud and I fell into the Lifestream.

"While we were down there, I went into Cloud's memories. I spent a lot of time inside that boy's head and I will still never fully understand him. I wish I knew what to tell you, I wish to Holy there was a right way, a magic way of making it better when your best friend's lover has died. But there isn't and it's probably going to hurt for a long time, for him and for you, watching him."

Rude just stared at me, mouth slightly open through all this. He had taken off his shades, and I had taken off my defenses in return. I left the next move up to him. Our noses were inches apart. I could smell the tea on his breath, and his sweat. He was compressed between my body and the door. He easily could have pushed me off. He didn't.

_So now what, poker face?_ I thought. I had nowhere to go. I was patience itself. I had no problems staring into those bare uncovered eyes, which looked increasingly uncomfortable under my gaze.

He gave a ragged gasp, grabbed my face and kissed me. He was as clumsy and impulsive as a schoolboy at first, but I steadied him by reaching up to cup his jaw.

His goatee tickled my face, filling me with unspeakable tingles. I thought I was in control, but once his arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me against him, I turned into pudding in his grasp. Suddenly everything was all right, even beyond all right into a nice hot little realm we claimed for our own in the back office of the bar.

Afterward, we lay on the floor and he slid his hands over my back and followed them with his lips. I inspected his jacket. I found an extra pair of those sunglasses, as I'd suspected, and put them on.

"New rules," I said, cuddling up to his chest. "From now on, strip poker, and I wear these, not you. In fact, whenever we're alone I want shades off."

He snorted softly into my neck, then licked me. I smiled and slid my hand across his beautiful smooth scalp.

My smile faded a little, thinking back over the conversation that had lead us there. I didn't know where Reno was, or Cloud either. I suspected we wouldn't see them again that evening. I curled away from thoughts of them, into Rude.

He obliged me with a toe-curling kiss, which to my delighted surprise eventually turned into more mind-blowing sex. I closed the bar early, handed Rude a toothbrush in lieu of any kind of discussion, and for the first time in a long time I didn't go to bed alone.

**_Reno_**

I strode in my front door and straight into the kitchen. I dropped to my knees, stretched an arm under my fridge and peeled free the plastic bag I'd taped there. All through the day I'd been mentally rehearsing this moment of relief, where I took a long unclipped pinky-nail full of red power directly into my nostril. Then the other. I sealed the bag before exhaling and sinking back on my heels, eyes on the ceiling. I saw the lines and angles of fading sunset hues sharpen, stabbed through with shadows of blinds like blades.

_Curtains_, I thought for about the seventieth time. _Not enough fucking dark in here. I want to have to do everything by feel._

Light showed me places she'd stood, sat, eaten, taken off her clothes, punched me in the jaw, stretched up high to dust, bent down low to scrub, places where she'd ambushed me cooking or on the phone or checking my email, where I'd ambushed her dressing or folding laundry or brushing her hair or writing emails. Not to mention the memories of having sex on every bit of floor, on every counter and table and against every inch of the walls. Light was my enemy.

Increasingly, so was my flat. Yet I couldn't bear the thought of moving. I generally just stayed away as much as possible. It was a place to park my carcass on those rare occasions when I slept—a harrowing nightmare-filled activity I was glad to avoid through drugs—as well as shower and stash my Move. I never opened the fridge anymore. The liquor cabinet remained persistently bare, since I couldn't get a bottle all the way home without sucking it dry it on the way.

I played with the plastic in my fingers, contemplating whether to go ahead and take a bonus round. Tseng's bitching-out still rang in my ears.

_Some bullshit assignment about those creepy labcoat fuckers_, I thought, opening the bag again. _Who the fuck cares? The director's got it in for me. They all do. Like fucking sharks, they smell my blood in the water. For once I'm not at the top of my game, and everyone's eager to stab me in the back._

_I should take this shit to work. I could do all their fucking jobs for them. Before anyone else even gets to work. I'm not sleeping anyway, might as well dazzle everyone who's thinking I'm weak._

_…Yeah. Hell, the looks on their faces… I can see them now! Surprise. Fear. Knowing I could put all of them out of a job at my whim. Stay the fuck off my back, assholes, or I will make you all sorry you messed with Reno of the motherfucking Turks!_

I inhaled more Move, enjoying the racing in my chest, whine in my ears. I felt like a chopper flaring to life. Not for nothing do they call it 'spinning-up.'

"God _damn_ I need a fight!" I said aloud. I sealed up the bag, tucked it somewhere safe, and rolled up to my feet. I spun on the balls of my feet, spreading my arms wide, and inhaled deeply. My laughter jangled sharply in my ears.

I went out whistling into the early evening. Every detail lay bare to my razor-fine senses, every noise, every filthy smell, every movement of the people around me. My body itched with delighted arousal in every way. My brain screamed with a million thoughts, faster than a motorbike, stronger than a Weapon.

Everything sped up and got brighter. I didn't even mind so much the stabbing in my temples, it helped keep me out of the murky middle of my head. Everything was outward, go go go.

I arrived at the Dragon & Dolphin and didn't even go inside. The drinking wasn't for me anymore. Made me too slow, particularly at work, and after that day I wanted to blow them all away with my superior skills.

_So some records got lost. So I can't find 'em. I was late to meet a guy and he turned up dead. Accidents happen, right? Who the fuck cares? Those creepy-asses sure as shit ain't using Jenova cells any more. They can't build another Sephiroth. Why should we give a crap what they're up to?_

I got called up, took omnipresent gum out of my mouth so I wouldn't choke and rammed it against a gathering filthy wad of the stuff at my place on the brick wall. Gum and cigarettes were my sustenance now. It was all about the fight. I cracked my knuckles and grinned nastily at my sharp-eyed opponent, covered in tattoos he probably thought were 'wicked' and 'tribal.'

Laying off the sauce really helped my game, almost as much as the Move. These kids didn't know what hit them. I saw their naked envy of me, underlined in blood and red dust.

_It's become crystal clear to them that I am the man, and the rest are just clumsy amateurs. They need schooling. Class is in session!_

Holy, it felt good to fight. To roll and duck and punch and climb and kick and keep spinning around, darting, ducking, never where the hits were aiming. I couldn't figure out for the life of me why I hadn't been doing this every damn day to begin with. It was better than anything. The drug made it that much faster and sweeter. I could focus everything on winning, and damn it if I didn't win every time.

Except every once in a while. Like that night, after I came up grinning from my defeated adversary I saw a blond looking at me, reclining against the wall, arms folded, jaw jutting out, looking like she knew what hot shit she was. A couple of the other fighters were trying to talk to her, but she never took her eyes off me.

I flipped my chin at her, grinning, a reflexive 'hey there, how _you_ doin'?' She pursed her lips a little, her eyes flaring just enough. I wiped the blood off my chin. My next match was coming up just on the heels of this one. I turned to spit and look up at the buzzcut scrawny kid waiting eagerly behind me.

I grinned at him. _Give it your best shot_, I thought, planting a fingertip on my chin. _I'll let you have the first one free._

I should never have underestimated a skinny one. The smallest ones sometimes fight the dirtiest, the fiercest, the most batshit-berserk. I should know, that short-haired fucker was what I used to be: desperate. His fist spun me around and threw me into the wall behind me. It was like a bomb going off in my head, all gunpowder and lights. That's when it happened.

_I spin her around, tossing her down on the floor and then up again over my head, sliding her body around mine like a Crawler. Insistent rhythms flow through my veins, up through my soles, out through my arms. They penetrate her through my touch just as the Lifestream pours into others through her hands._

_We're in the Zone._

_Months, it took. All the trust she had to fight and fuck me vanished when I started teaching her this. She just would not give in, no matter how I tried, and we fought and yelled and hit and had sex and tried again. And again and again. I got so exhausted and irritated, and she seemed even more so, surly at her failure._

_I didn't get it, at first, and I blamed her. But she's a perfectionist, and unlike with fighting and fucking, everything has to flow just right when we're dancing. And she has to give over to my lead utterly, without reserve. She has to move at my every touch, anticipate from my hands and body and feet and eyes where I'm taking her. She has to not miss a beat._

_Well, I tried to convince her she could, that it doesn't really matter, but to her it does. And then I realized that under all that frustration was this fear of inadequacy. I'm teaching her to fight, too, and always going to be better at it 'cause I've been doing it my entire life._

_So here's another thing I've been doing for years. Learning to dance helps with the fighting, with agility, with strength and balance, and it helps get you more laid than everything else, including singing ridiculously well, which I also do. Except possibly money gets you more tail, but when I was a kid I had my body and nothing else to my name but what I could steal._

_For the tango, mostly all she has to do is stretch well and be boneless and trusting. And tonight, right now, she's doing it._

_It's the inaugural reception of the WRO-Shinra summit, something Presidents Shinra and Tuesti have been cooking up for months, something she's been promoting and working to encourage funding for, and speaking about with that mouth she's got all done up in dark bloodred lipstick._

_The whole world is watching. And goddamn if we're not giving them a show. We clear the floor. It's even worth buttoning my shirt and wearing this unbelievably restrictive bowtie and mirror-shiny shoes._

_Dancing's the nearest thing to fucking in public. Although fighting is pretty viscerally rewarding, I don't fight girls except her, and when I do I like to do it in private so that actual fucking can be a part of it. Right now, though, with intense control and style and all our clothes on, I am having my way with my girl in front of a ballroom ranked with envious eyes._

_She is the shit, I know that, and the only one worthy to be this with me. Together we look like the greatest show in the world. And we are. It's hard work sometimes but it pays off. Everyone watching thinks we've got it made. And they're 100% correct._

_After our goddamn baroque throwdown, we stop. I want to give everyone else a chance to clumsily try to imitate us, and I don't want to tempt fate by trying to top what we just did. She gives me a searing, long, almost-obscene kiss. I mess up her pretty hair with clutching fingers. Everyone's applauding and cheering still. She beams up at me, flushed, triumphant, sensual, her lipstick smeared. I grin wider, knowing she's left her mark on my face. I lift her hand to my lips and give her back some of it, a red lip-print on her knuckles._

_I let her go to spin off toward the restroom, sigh contentedly and head for the nearest table piled with champagne flutes. I nod to Captain Highwind and Barret Wallace, who stand together downing glasses like they're having some kind of contest. The two of them look like tramps cleverly disguised as responsible adults. They've finally shaken off that train of cloying admirers that have been following them around all evening._

_I sip a glass and inspect the lipstick smudge I leave behind._

_"You are one _lucky_ son of a bitch, I hope ya know that," says Cid._

_"In case you haven't noticed, so is she," I say._

_"Bullshit," says Barret._

_"Fancy footwork don't make up for not havin' a conscience," says Cid._

_I laugh in his face. "Sure, whatever."_

_Barret shifts closer to me and I tense, glaring up at him._

_"I ain't gonna hit you, little man," he says. "Got too much respect for her to go hittin' somethin' she cares about. I ain't like you. You're fuckin' lucky Aerith got Marlene out before you dropped the Plate on Sector Seven or your ass woulda been grass long ago, fuckwad. As it is ya killed a buncha my friends and I'd love to see you pushin' up daisies, 'cept for some reason an angel loves ya."_

_Cid shakes his head. "Ain't got a clue why. She's got a damn good head on her shoulders. She knows people, knows how shitty and selfish we all are and loves us anyway. Makes us feel like we should live up to that. But you, Red, you don't even give a shit about that, do ya? She's yer fuckin' trophy, your prize."_

_I bristle, rising to the balls of my feet. "She ain't a _thing_, old man! She's a fucking human being, same as me! Just 'cause she works for you WRO people doesn't mean you own her, goddamn! Everybody thinks she owes 'em a piece of her 'cause she's trying to help! She decides who she's with, and I happen to think she picked right! She's mine 'cause she wants to be! And doesn't that just piss you off, too?" I glare at them, my jaw clenching, and snatch up and drain another flute._

_They laugh at me. I hiss._

_"Goddamn, boy!" Cid claps me on the back and ducks as I whirl the glass at his face. Sparkling wine flies through the air. A couple passing gets doused. The man gives me a dirty look, sees my eyes and hurries his squalling partner away._

_"Who the fuck're you and what have you done with Reno of the fuckin' Turks?" says Cid, passing me a fresh glass, sneering. "Have one on me, kiddo. Fuckin' hell!" He grins at Barret. "You believe this guy?"_

_Barret shakes his head slowly, eyes sharp on me._

_I drain the glass, frowning at the pair of them. "Fucking AVALANCHE yahoos. What do you want from me?!"_

_Cid's eyes gleam and he leans his grin in toward me. I lean away, alarmed. He's chewing a toothpick, the hall being a non-smoking affair. As hard as he gnashes on that thing it has to have been steel-lined to not break in those ugly nicotine-stained teeth of his._

_"I want you to treat her right, boy," says Cid, still grinning, almost a snarl where his lips peel back. "She ain't some back-alley trollop. She's our hope for the future. She heals more'n just Geostigma with those words o' hers, and she means every damn one. Don't know if any of our sorry asses deserve her, so the least we can do is treat her like a goddamn queen. Got it, kid?"_

_Barret folds his arms. He looks like a member of a Mercante crime family, an elephant stuffed in a monkey suit, bespoke tailoring almost bursting at its seams._

_"How dare you?" I snap. "How _dare_ you tell me how to treat my woman?! After each of your hometowns produced specimens that tried to rape her? Where were you when your fellow men touched her without permission?"_

_Barret heaves at me and Cid slams a fist in his chest._

_"Kid's got a point. I saw my own men go for her when she came to heal us all," says Cid. "Couldn't calm 'em, for all I tried. Fuckers. She told me why they went for her, she's like a spring of life, but goddamn. She don't deserve that. Reno's right, much as I hate to say it."_

_Barret, amazingly, quells at the older man's words. He still glares at me. "I pity you. You don't understand her world. Ya never will."_

_Out of the corner of my eye I spot a whirl of velvet. She's running for the door. "'Scuse me," I say, and chase after her. I don't know what's going on, only that something is making my girl run, and Tifa's chasing after her. I book after them, down the hall. I bang out the side door, into the alley, following the sound of my girl's strident voice:_

_"…know it? You think I didn't know it the first time I saw him, let alone saw him fight? Fucking hell, Tifa, I know what I am, what I've done! I know I don't deserve him!"_

_I stop in the doorway, breathless. Part of me absorbs her words. Part of me is convinced she's talking about me. A larger, darker part of me is convinced she's talking about Cloud._

_Tifa speaks, interrupting my aching, awful thoughts. "That's… that's why you didn't defend yourself? You think those bitches are right? Schala… None of what those women said was true. They're jealous of you because they know you're a far better person than them. Prettier, too, inside and out. If anything, the opposite is true. You deserve far better than that arrogant bastard _Reno_, believe me."_

_I feel uncertain, and so totally unprepared to see my girl roundhouse-kick Tifa in the face. Even as Schala brutally beats that girl, that hero of Meteorfall, into the ground, I'm still reeling from the moment Schala whirled and planted her spiky heel in Tifa's face._

_And then I watch in abject knee-bending adoration as Schala kneels on Tifa, trapping the barefisted fighter. Schala reaches down with such tenderness to heal Tifa with the Lifestream I think that it's almost as good as an open-mouthed kiss between the two. And then Schala rises off the longhaired woman and reaches down to help Tifa up._

_"Moral of the story:" Schala says, "…don't _ever_ disrespect Reno to my face."_

Oh my Holy_, I think. _It's me, it really _is_ me…!

Of course it is!_ I think out of habit, but I feel such overwhelming relief I know my confidence is a lie._

_Tifa heaves up from the round on the other side of her, levering herself to her feet, too weak or restrained by that ridiculous dress to stand on her own. Her eyes drift off Schala's to catch mine, then flick back as she smiles._

_"Gotcha," says Tifa. I almost don't hear her, over the excitement in my head._

_Schala just beat the shit out of Tifa. Over me. Not because Tifa wanted me, which would have been ungodly hot, don't get me wrong. But because the girl said something against me. Which is also unbearably erotic. Schala has her back to me and doesn't know I'm right there, watching this girlfight for my honor. My words burst out of my chest and Schala jumps in shock, reacting as if to a predator behind her._

_"That," I cry helplessly, "was the _hottest_ fucking thing I've ever seen!"_

_She's spun toward me and I run at her, grabbing her, crushing her to me like she crushed her lips to mine earlier. I lick inside her mouth, wishing I was kissing her somewhere more private._

_"I want you so bad," I whisper, activating that special spot with my lips under her ear that makes her do what I say and leaving smears of her own lipstick on her pale throat._

_She moans: "Let's get out of here."_

_"I can't wait…!" I say, urgent._

_I'm so lost in her I don't realize her hands are buried in my hair until she yanks me back from her, hissing. My eyes pop open._

_She's looking at me, dragging her eyes over my features in a way I can feel. She leans in with unseen thoughts in her eyes. I feel her tongue along my ear, flicking at my earring. I groan softly._

_"You can wait for me," she murmurs._

_"Yes…!" bursts out of me, without my push. She can wrench words from me I don't approve or even think. This must be how she gets people to sign money over to the WRO, gets people to come and work all day on the highways over broad straits like the one between Cosmo Canyon and Rocket Town._

_She does something I'm positive she never does for the donors, though. She tugs harder on my hair. I sink to my knees, gazing up at her in gratitude and lust. No one else ever opened up this side of me._

_"I'll… make it… worth your while," she murmurs. She leans over me, hair brushing the side of my face, her two eyes switching between merging into one with their closeness. She frees one hand from my scalp to drag down my neck and catch in that horrid tie around my throat. It transforms in her touch from an unwelcome choking thing to an animal collar that makes me hers._

_"Anything you say, babe," I moan._

_She smiles like she knows just what she's done, and I believe she does. I know in two weeks it'll be the one-year anniversary of the day we met, me in hardly anything and her in a longsleeve robe, healing hoboes in Costa del Sol. She doesn't even know I've arranged things with Cloud to borrow his villa, things with Shinra to get a fresh vacation, things with Reeve to back off her so I can take her away for a week and turn off our leashes of PHSes and give us peace. Also languid lying in bed all day with the windows open all night without fear of freezing her._

_She leans in and kisses me. God, I love moments like these. I push off from my knees, strong enough to grasp the mistress of my moves into my arms. As soon as I'm standing, her off the ground, arms around me, I run with her down the alley, wind in my hair._

_I know where my car is. I know where to go, to take her. I want her so bad, all is reduced to a path between me and our apartment which I pave. She grins at me, laughs, shifts one languid long pale leg over the other and makes me more horny. I shove the gearshift around, whimpering, probably expensively damaging the clutch on my car. I don't care anymore, all I have is this moment where I want her so bad nothing matters but getting there._

_She beat up Tifa. Not because she dislikes Cloud's childhood friend, not because they've had some burgeoning animosity I can detect. No, it's because of one negative remark I imagine Tifa, as well as Cid and Barret and others, are prone to make about me. That I'm an asshole. I can't even imagine how many roundhouse kicks that I trained her to do she has delivered in my defense. I just happen to have been there when she did it to the bustiest woman I know._

_I once thought of Tifa as the hottest piece of ass I'd ever meet, I won't deny it. But the way she moons after Cloud, goddamn, I think her weaker every moment I see it. And now that I've known someone like Schala, always eager to step it up a notch and punch me in the face, I have decreasing respect for someone harboring unrequited passion instead of getting on with her life._

_Schala's hurt but not broken. That's the best explanation I can come up with right now. The hurt can become strong. The broken can become vindictive. I think Schala thinks she's vindictive, but she's too forgiving. Hell, she forgives me every damn day. And kicks Tifa in the face._

_Once we're home I'm ecstatic. I carry her inside, eager not to break a winning streak, and dump her on the king-sized bed._

_"Do what you want," I say, dropping down beside her. "Do anything to me, I'm yours."_

_I don't regret it. I never do, when I'm brave enough to give over to her totally. God_damn.

It cost me the fight. It cost me more of my dwindling sanity. I had come unstuck in time and no matter what I did to prevent it, I got jerked around like a puppet by the smallest reminders, flung into once-pleasurable memories turned into searing hells. Such a peak night for both of us had turned out to be the last time I saw her alive. I didn't even wake when she left for her airship flight that next morning.

How could I have known?


	6. Chapter 6

**_Vincent_**

"Nice…place you have here," Tseng said hesitantly, eyes on the laden flystrips dangling from the hovel ceiling. Plaster cracked, bubbled paint peeled all around us. Everything lay under about a decade's worth of dust, pollen, and dead rats and spiders.

I snorted. "Not mine. You know why we're here. Walls have ears, elsewhere."

He glanced out the concrete aperture that had presumably once held glass and a metal window frame. A rusty shadow, the derelict Gongaga reactor, dominated a view of barren dusty crags.

"I'd offer you tea, but…" I trailed off meaningfully, waving theatrically at our surroundings. My collar hid my grin at the shudder this provoked.

"I hear you're working for the WRO," said Tseng.

"Hmph. With, perhaps. They provide me contacts."

"For a couple of unreliable former Shinra employees, you and Reeve seem to have discovered some form of loyalty. How nice for you."

I glowered at him. "I would not aspire to your definition of 'loyalty,' considering your publicly contrite company continues privately to engage in genetic experimentation."

The violence of his reaction nearly convinced me it was genuine.

"_What_?" He narrowed his eyes at me. "You should not believe such rumors, Valentine. Shinra has learned its lesson."

"Has it? I wonder." I flipped a disc at him that he caught reflexively. He may be slow on the uptake when it comes to grasping certain uncomfortable realities about his bosses, but I can't fault his physical skills, as rarely as I see them. It was easy to forget, surrounded by weak people at the top, that unlike them Tseng can battle with more than words. Words are merely the weapons of our time.

Tseng turned over the plastic round case in his hands. It had been marred with a lot of scratches and still had stains of blood on the outside and inside, but the label was still legible, for all it read only a string of numbers and letters.

Tseng frowned in alarm.

"It's been a while since I worked there, but I recognize the codes," I said. "Do you?"

"Only some," he murmured, unable to take his eyes off the thing in his hands. He pried it open and sniffed the inside, recoiled and closed it up. He looked up at me. "Where did you get this? How recently?"

"Your people aren't acting quickly enough," I said. "We would have more than this if you weren't so careless."

He pursed his lips, jaw clenching. "I cannot afford to be incautious. As it is suspicions are circulating. I can only rely on the discretion of those I know I can trust. Even you, I wonder about—you with your WRO ties, and their much-heralded 'transparency' aims."

I shrugged. "I have no need to keep you informed of what I discover. I was under the impression that you wished to avoid another… Jenova-related incident."

"Is that what was in here?" Tseng said quickly, brandishing the case. His composure was almost gone.

I stared at him, arms folded. "I have insufficient information about its contents. It was stored genetic material. It was unsealed a month ago. This is one of at least twelve samples that have been used. My source is dead. So, it seems, are yours."

He gave me a tight insincere smile. "Not necessarily. Just as you are cautious to trust me, so must I be with you."

I rolled my eyes. "It is not my employers that have conducted ill-advised experimentation and torture." I inspected my golden gauntlet pointedly at him.

"You prove my point. Such words could panic the populous. Meteorfall and Geostigma have left shadows and stains on us all. You yourself are less than… clean, Valentine."

"I never claimed to be. Shinra, however…"

"Can we return to the subject at hand?" He lifted the case.

"Shinra is the subject at hand. You realize this may be happening with not only full knowledge and consent of President Shinra, but at his orders?"

He nodded. "I'm endeavoring to discover if that's the case."

"And if it is? Will you betray your president, or continue to cover up and aid his crimes, knowing they could lead to our destruction?"

He strolled over to look out at the apt view. "I would have thought an astute observer such as you would understand that those are not the only two choices in such a situation. Our world is far from black and white. Such extremes at odds can and do destroy us. Life is somewhere between. These days there is much forgiveness to be sought, much on offer. Cooler, keener heads have survived where those married to old ideals of absolute good and evil have perished."

"Nice sentiment," I said dryly. "But if Sephiroth comes back, one way or another, I will see to it that Shinra's science division is wiped from the face of the planet." I climbed crouching into the hole and twisted my head to look in his impassive eyes. "And I'd advise you to stay well back, or you may find out you cannot survive everything."

I launched out of the window. I find it quite an effective way of ending conversations when I've said all I have to say.

**_Reno_**

"Ohh, baby, ohh _yeahhh_… unhhh… right there, right there, right _theeere_!" I grabbed fistfuls of the blond chick's hair, fumbling because it was too short, too slick to grip. I ground my teeth, eyes shut tight, trying to block out what my fingers wanted and expected and just enjoy.

My libido had been killing me for weeks. Move makes you horny twenty-four hours a day, and wanking was frustratingly unproductive because intrusive memories kept killing the mood.

It made me furious. It made me hate her and wish she'd never been born, or I'd never met her. All my fantasies wound up looping back to her, which would sucker-punch me in the chest and fiercely wilt my arousal. But not my need.

Finally, finally I was getting relief. I hadn't made it past the doorway. The girl had torn my pants off my hips somehow without damaging my erection and thrown me against the door, dropping to her knees. Having someone else focusing on the mechanics freed me up to keep mentally dragging my focus back to pleasure when it threatened to wander.

"_Hey_!" she snapped, wrenching her head back to give me a stern look. I realized my fingers were digging hard into her scalp, clutching the experience as hard as I could while my jaw clenched.

"Sorry," I muttered, letting go. Rather than continue she shimmied up my body and kissed me, using lots of tongue. After the initial shock of how different it was with my mouth on someone else after all this time, I was able to remember what it felt like when kissing a different chick every night was the norm.

We made it to the bedroom and tore off each other's clothes. Hers were insubstantial and didn't hold up to the strength of my sexual frustration.

"Careful, there!" she giggled as her dress ripped.

I ignored her. I tossed her on the bed. She shoved at me when I tried to cover her body with mine.

"What about me, huh?" she said, pushing on my shoulders to guide me down her body. I rolled my eyes, impatient and irritated. There were so many things I'd gotten used to, timing and preferences I had to defer. I wanted her to talk as little as possible, where normally I'm all about the dirty talk.

Her voice, though not grating, jarred me. I already had to overcome and ignore enough differences and viciously repress discomfort that threatened the whole encounter. I put up with Blondie's grip on my head as long as I could stand it. I returned up to her face and covered her mouth so she'd stop moaning so loudly.

At last with her legs wrapped around me I could get lost in sex. She clawed at me, and I liked it, but as it turned out she was trying to peel me off her so she could protest.

"Not so _rough_!" she said.

I hung over her, panting, frozen in disbelief. _'Rough'? What the fuck is she talking about? This ain't rough. She's been watching me fight, what did she expect?_

Nevertheless, I tried to comply. Habits are hard to break, though. When I discovered she didn't even like to be smacked on the ass I just finished as quickly as I could. She tried to cuddle up to me. I got up and pointedly hopped in the shower, slamming the bathroom door behind me.

I leaned my head against the shower wall, letting the water plaster my hair in a red curtain around my face. I felt so low, tired and fucked up I didn't even want more Move.

Hideous memory nagged at me. I was expecting some kind of side-by-side comparison of how good it had been with the shittiness I'd just had.

I rammed my fist against the wall hard enough to dent the tough plastic. "_Ffffffuuuuuck_…!"

I stopped struggling.

_I glare at the mechanical cat dangling its boots off the bar, chin on my fist. It's been a long while since I've seen the annoying little fucker._

_"Is that stupid accent part of the machine's lack of charm, or yours?" I say._

_"You're one to talk, laddie," says Cait Sith. "Ya look like a wet weekend."_

_"It's your fucking fault," I snap, and sip more scotch. "Bastard."_

_He grins at me. I consider that breaking the little toy in half, while it would not do more than mildly inconvenience its operator who has like a million of 'em, could potentially relieve some of my irritation and destroy that stupid little look._

_"And here I thought you were in favor of repairin' all the messes we made with Shinra," he says. "Canna ask for a better lass than her for persuadin' folk to do what's necessary to rebuild the world."_

_"She's got a goddamn phone, Reeve," I say. "Why the hell do you keep shipping her off to the ass end of nowhere when it would save so much time if she just, y'know, called instead? You could get more bang for your buck that way."_

_"Talkin' on the phone with her isna good enough for you, but you expect it to be enough for the type of folk shy to part with their resources even for a good cause?"_

_"Ain't the same thing at all. They don't need to _touch_ her. Or see her. You are really starting to piss me off, dude."_

_The cat spreads its hands. "I am sorry, lad. Let me buy you a drink."_

_"I don't need your fucking money."_

_"T'ain't money I'm offering, 'tis perspective."_

_I straighten with a jerk, hand slamming to the bar. "You're gonna tell me why I should be _happy_ I never see her anymore?!"_

_"Just shut your gob for a minute and listen, Reno. I'm a politician, not a hero. Those who fought Sephiroth went up against incredible odds and saved our world. Folk look up to them. They represent hope when there's precious little aboot. But fightin's only part of savin' a world._

_"Then there's dirty, thankless, complicated messes not so cut and dried as pickin' up a great huge sword and goin' after a monster. Roads to be built, water and power, medicines and food, waste management, law enforcement, education, legislation to help the poor and weak. Takes a certain kinda noggin and personality to face up to that, knowin' that if you do your best no one knows you've done a lick of work and you're not likely to be popular for decisions that affect a lot of people._

_"Cloud and them—they're good heroes. But fighting won't fix the problems we've got now. And their work is done, they're tired, they want quiet lives. I can do the work, but people dinna look up to me. People are scared, they're tired and hopeless, and there's a ruddy great hole at the top of someone worth believing in, someone who can convince a body to go on when all it wants tae do is just give up. D'ya ken, lad?"_

_I throw up my hands and yell at him, "So you admit you're just using her!"_

_"Hush, lad! I'm tryin' to tell you. She heals with more than her hands. We all need her, and she's the only one so genuine who can bear such a burden as the expectations of a whole world and not crumble. So you've got a lot of lonely nights—so what?"_

_I seethe, tensing to lunge at him._

_"Everyone wants more of her time," he continues in that irritating brogue. "Even with a dozen o' her it wouldn't be enough. She's fixin' the future so it'll be a place worth living. We're lucky she's here at all. And frankly, lad, you're lucky you're the one out of a world full of people who love her that she loves back."_

_I sink back on my hipbones, still glaring. "You're exploiting her good nature."_

_"It's her choice. You're just sore she's not as selfish as you, and doesn't tell everyone to piss off so you get her all the time."_

_I shake my head at him. "Not everyone. Just you." I drain my drink._

_He grins and twists to look down the bar. "Tifa, lass? A refill for my ginger friend."_

_"Ain't your friend," I mutter. "I should never have let her invite you to the housewarming."_

_"I ken how lucky I am to have her help, lad. She does what needs doing, like you, and like you she's good at what she does. But she doesn't have to. She wants to. Almost as much as she wants you." The cat shakes its head with a smirk. "Although that's one thing I'll never understand."_

_Tifa brings me a fresh glass. It helps wash down that little prick's words._

_"Why are you even here tonight?" I say. "Too busy to show up yourself, but not too busy to send your mouthy little puppet to torture me?"_

_"Always nice to see Tifa and Cloud. And I've been meanin' to express my gratitude to ya, Reno. I know it canna be easy being without her so much. But you don't try to stop her."_

_I sigh and sink on myself. "How could I?" I flick my eyes at him hopefully, but he doesn't answer. "She does it 'cause she cares. If she didn't care, I wouldn't want her around like I do."_

_"That's what I've been tryin' tae tell ya. I ken you miss her. She'll be back tomorrow."_

_"Great. Now fuck off and leave me alone." I glower at the cat as it stands up and sidles carefully down the bar, around the glasses of the other patrons, earning more dirty and suspicious looks. I look down into the drink I've suddenly lost the taste for, dig out some gil and leave it on the bar. I stride out into the humid, smelly night with hands shoved in my pockets._

_I hate my brain on nights like these. Every couple holding hands or kissing as they stroll along light up like neon signs. I feel a sudden profound need to be where people aren't, but the apartment is depressingly quiet without her there._

_I marvel moodily that she's fucked with me so profoundly that my flat ain't a home when she's not in it._

I snapped back to the present, realizing the shower was running freezing water down my back. Shivering, I got out, slung a towel round my waist and banged through the door into the bedroom. I could tell right away the blond girl had gone. She left stillness, furled sheets and the smell of sex in her wake.

I flopped on the bed, wet hair soaking into the pillow, uncaring. It wasn't the wet that kept me from long-overdue sleep. That smell nagged me with feelings of failure and shame until I got off, ripped the sheets angrily from the bed and stuffed them in the washer. For the first time in months I actually bothered to clean, just to get the damn smell to go away, and resolved to buy some scented candles so I wouldn't have to go through this the next time I brought home some back-alley slut to fuck.

_More condoms, too_, I thought in a furious passion. _Lots more. And maybe the next bitch won't be such a fucking pussy about pain._

**_Cloud_**

I jerked awake to the sound of thunder. Sheets of rain pummeled the windows, almost as intense as machine gun fire. I scrambled out of bed, grabbed my pants off the floor, and was dressed and halfway down the stairs before reality set in.

I paused, hand on the banister, frowning. I'd been so certain when I woke that I had to go to Nibelheim, that Aerith and Schala were trapped there, subjects of some hideous body-swapping experiment in the basement of the Shinra Mansion.

I sighed, went down the rest of the stairs and put on some water to boil. After the tea was cooling in its pot I sat down at a table near the front windows to watch the rain, chin in my hand.

I got so lost I didn't even hear footsteps approach. A chair scraped out quietly and I jolted. Denzel looked at me apologetically as he slipped into the seat beside me.

I pushed my cup of razor weed tea over at him with a fingertip. He looked at it in surprise, then up at me, then cradled his hands around the warm cup.

"You never drink tea," he said to me.

I shook my head.

"You miss her, don't you?" he said.

"What are you doing up?" I said, uncomfortable with his keen gaze.

He sipped the tea. "I hear you, when you can't sleep. Sometimes I can't sleep either. Is it 'cause we miss people we loved?"

"Probably."

"Everybody I know has done stuff they wish they hadn't. Or not done stuff they wish they had. I guess that can keep you awake too."

I lifted an eyebrow. "You?"

He nodded, looking down in the cup. He looked back up at me. "I didn't used to understand that sometimes people do things without thinking, even adults. Barret told me a few months ago that Reno was the one who dropped the Plate on Sector Seven. I was so angry. So I went over to his place to kill him. Schala was there, too."

I put my head in my hand. "Why don't you ever tell me these things?"

"I dunno. …Anyway, she invited me in, and I told Reno just what I thought of him. He didn't try to tell me that he'd done the right thing. He showed me their dojo and asked if I knew how to fight. Schala made us some tea while he talked to me about fighting technique, and then we fought. At that point I was starting to get really scared of him, but I really felt he should pay for what he'd done to my parents and a lot of other people." He fell silent and poured more tea out for himself.

"And…?" I prompted, still frowning in such retroactive alarm for the kid.

He shrugged. "I lost. He's bigger than me, and better. He told me why I'd lost and how I could get better at fighting, and that he'd teach me if I wanted. I said I didn't, but I was still angry at him. Afterward Schala and I had tea and she talked to me for a long time about obligations, responsibility, and acting regardless of the threat of consequences. She told me about things she'd done without thinking. I realized I'd done that when I came over to fight Reno, just as he'd done it when he dropped the Plate. She said no matter how hard we try, we can't really know if what we're doing will turn out to be the right thing in the end, that everyone's acting on what they think they know and feel at the time.

"I really liked her, Cloud. She made me feel better when I thought nothing would. I think I understand now when Marlene talks about Aerith."

I sighed through my nose, sinking back in my chair, looking at nothing. I felt again that panicked desire I'd felt on waking, only a dull throb now, but illogical. Schala wasn't in Nibelheim, she was six feet under. What remained of Aerith lay at the bottom of a pool in the Forgotten City.

He finished his tea while I marinated in silence. He pushed the cup back at me. I refocused on him as he rose.

"Goodnight, Cloud," he said.

I shifted. "Goodnight," I said.

He nodded. "I'll come down more often, when I hear you up." I swiveled to watch him go upstairs, twisted up inside. I felt unhappy that someone I was supposed to be taking care of had reversed our roles, but at the same time, I know how it feels to be able to help someone you love who's hurting, and I'd never begrudge him that.

He'd had so much taken away in such a short life. Nothing bad happened to me until I was seventeen, and here Denzel was only eleven and already sharper than I'd felt at twenty-one.

I shook my head at myself and went to wash out the teapot, having never drunk a drop.

_I can't keep doing this. People depend on me. This has to end._

**_Rude_**

I checked under the stall doors of the unisex bathroom, listening intently. When I felt satisfied the place was empty, I leaned against the sink-studded counter and flipped out my PHS. Speed dial—four. One ring. Two.

"Seventh Heaven."

I smiled. "Hey there."

"Rude!" I could practically hear Tifa beaming. "What a surprise!"

"Can't talk long, I'm at work. You want me to pick up some Wutain food after, or just come over?" I said.

"Oh, Wutain would be lovely! Could you get a couple of orders of dumplings for Marlene and Denzel?"

"Of course. And what for my lady?"

"Orange chicken." She giggled. "You make me feel like a schoolgirl when you call me that."

I couldn't stop smiling. "Anything for Cloud?"

"No, he's out on a delivery. Denzel's pretty upset he didn't get to go, so he'll be glad to see you. And Marlene's been sniffing for a lucky sevens rematch."

I rumbled a laugh. "You tell her, 'good luck with that.' Can't believe she beat me so bad."

"Oh, you let her win!"

"Did not."

"You know you did!"

The bathroom door banged open. Reno and a raucously giggling girl in a coral blazer and skirt erupted through it. He was all over her. His dilated, sunken eyes flicked up to me and narrowed as he grinned predatorily, snarfling her neck.

"Later," I said into the phone before snapping it shut.

"D'ya mind?" said Reno, jerking his head at the door.

I put my PHS away and straightened my tie, fighting to keep control. "Actually, I _do_."

"What's _your_ problem?" he snapped, sliding a hand up the girl's skirt. She peeked over her shoulder at me and swatted at his hand.

"_Reno_!" she shrieked, batting her eyelashes at him. He gave her a sly grin and stuck his tongue out, biting it suggestively.

My rage was boiling over. Here was exactly what I didn't want to see, what I'd been trying to avoid, rammed in my face. My fists tightened, aching for his face. The little shit's nose was bleeding, too, and I could tell it wasn't from fighting. It wasn't the first time over the last month it had spontaneously gushed at work. He wasn't even trying to be discreet anymore.

"Out, partner," he growled, burying his face in her shoulder.

"You motherfucking prick," I snarled. "You think I'm just gonna step aside and watch you do this to yourself? To _her_?"

"Hey, she's consenting!" he snapped, and turned to her. "Aren't ya, dollface?"

"I'm talking about Schala!" I roared.

He shoved the girl aside, squaring off against me, his own hands bunching. "She's _dead_!" he screamed in my face.

"She still existed, you self-absorbed little shit! She was the best thing that ever happened to you and you're pissing that all away!"

The door banged shut in the wake of the office girl's hasty retreat.

"Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?! You have no fucking right to meddle in my personal life! We work together and that's _it_, partner! You made that fucking clear when you quit hanging out with me!"

"'Cause of shit like this, Reno! _Look_ at yourself!" I jabbed a finger at the mirror. He flicked his seething eyes at his reflection. "You look like hell. Do you even have any septum left, huh? You think no one's noticing how you slip away and bang back into the office full of energy? Not cool, man! You're a Turk! This is beyond unprofessional! Who the fuck do _you_ think you are?"

In a way I was glad he finally threw the first punch. I'd had enough of railing at his sneering face. He just didn't seem to give a fuck, and I wanted to beat the shit out of him.

He was a monster, a hurricane on Move. I'd never seen him like this. I had no idea it was getting this bad. I still managed to pound his sorry ass into the tile, but not for long. In the end he was kneeling on my kidneys, viciously twisting my arms behind me. I felt about ready to pass out.

I tapped out. He pulled harder, almost dislocating my shoulder, before he released me and rolled off. He strolled over to the sink. Panting, I levered myself off the floor and glared at him in the mirror through my shades as he cleaned up his bruised and bloodied face.

"What are _you_ looking at, baldy?" he said.

"I don't even know anymore," I said.

He shut off the water and swiveled to face me. "Are we done?"

"Yes," I said. "We're done, Reno."

He stared at me, breathing hard, and then stomped out, kicking the door shut behind him. I strolled up to the sink to numbly clean up.

Afterward, I went down the hall and across the atrium to the director's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," said Tseng, within.

I did. Elena was sitting on the edge of his desk, holding an open folder on her lap. She got up as I came in, tugging her jacket straight.

I shut the door behind me. "Sir, I have a request."

Tseng reached for his teacup and raised his eyebrow at me, a gesture to continue.

"I'm requesting that I no longer be partnered with Reno on missions."

The folder dropped from Elena's grasp and paperwork slithered messily across the floor. She stared at me with wide eyes. Tseng set down his cup.

"For what reason?" said Tseng.

"I don't believe we can continue to work together in a professional manner," I said.

He sighed. "Rude…"

"Sir, in all my years as a Turk I have done what was asked of me, as befits my job, and never asked for anything. But I cannot work with that man any longer."

He stared at me for a long, long moment. I just stood there, hands folded in front of me, waiting.

"I'll take your request under advisement and let you know by the end of the day," the director said quietly. "Dismissed."

I nodded. "Sir." I walked out, shutting the door as quietly as I could.

It was done.

Later I called Tifa and told her something had come up at work. I went to the liquor store and bought a little bottle of brandy, went home and tried to forget everything.

Especially…

_I glanced over at Reno where he curled over his keyboard, head propped in his hand at an angle that suggested he might faceplant on the keys at any moment. His scowl had frozen in time. He hadn't so much as whistled in a week and a half. Not since we left Schala behind in Edge to heal the last of the Geostigma patients there._

_Reno was so lost in Reno-land he alone didn't stir at the sound of a loud engine growling up outside Healen. Tseng and Elena lifted their heads with some irritation, and I twisted toward the window as well. Elena craned to look around her screen as the engine shut off._

_"It's… Cloud," she said in surprise._

_Reno came out of his daze at her voice and leaned back, frowning at the vast curved picture window, balanced on his chair's two back legs. Even farther from it than I, he had no hope of seeing what I couldn't._

_"Cloud?" I said._

_Elena nodded. "Oh… he's brought that girl with him. The one who heals Geostigma."_

BAM_. Reno's chair hit the floor back-first and he scrambled up from where he'd fallen, diving for the door. Elena and Tseng whirled in shock at the noise. Reno's boots thundered down the hall like a herd of chocobos._

_"What the hell was _that_?" Elena said as I tried to suppress my grin and failed. I got to my feet and strode over stand at the window._

_Cloud's giant black armored motorcycle stood parked at the base of the stairs. Schala swung off the bike. She wore that pink Wutain dress and the red jacket from Fort Condor, her bright blue hair even more stark by contrast. I marveled from above at the unnerving picture she painted. She leaned in to say something to Cloud._

_I heard the bang of the outer door slamming open. I leaned further out to look and realized Elena stood beside me, Tseng behind her, all of us watching curiously. I spotted a flash of Reno's hair just before he swung over the rail and leapt down the full height of Healen's staircase. Schala's hands flew up to her mouth in shock._

_Reno, of course, landed like a cat and ran at her, sweeping her up in his arms. His mouth fastened over hers. He swung her round and round, kissing her. When he finally set her down I saw them both in profile, grinning at each other. It was the first time I'd seen them together since the fight with Sephiroth. Though I could hear them upstairs at Tifa's bar when I stopped by, and I could see from her face and his separately their happiness, it was quite another thing to see them really together. Finally._

_I felt such relief that they didn't wind up like Tifa and Cloud, both repressed and miserable. I made it a point not to interfere with Reno's personal shit, but I had been sorely tempted to bang their heads together more than once in our travels._

_Then again, it was enjoyable to watch them fucking with each other, and to see what was happening to Reno from the ground up. Even I was astounded by the evolution of what Elena and Tseng were just beginning to grasp._

_Reno and Schala looped arms around each other, eyes fixed together, and ran up the stairs and out of sight. I glanced back down at Cloud, who tracked their progress with Mako-blue eyes and an unreadable expression. He restarted the bike and peeled out. I heard the front door slam. The motorcycle engine faded to silence._

_Down the hall, in the distance, I heard Reno singing at the top of his lungs._

_Elena and Tseng stared at me. I arched an eyebrow at them, pleased to see their dumbfounded expressions, and sat down at my desk. I had the strongest urge to whistle for the first time in my life._


	7. Chapter 7

**_Reno_**

_MOTHERFUCKER._

I whirled my EMR around on its strap. Elena stood a good distance from me, an added bonus. I ground gum between my teeth, flavorless and pitiful. I'd run out of cigarettes. Anyway the wind on the airstrip was too intense to light one. I glared at the distance, my back against the helicopter door. It was holding me up. Elena didn't know.

* * *

"Report to the airstrip tomorrow at 4 a.m.," Tseng had told me at the end of the day before. "Elena will accompany you to Junon." He passed across a file to me. I opened it, frowning, and examined the scarce text.

"Labcoats again?" I said with a sniff. My nostrils burned, but I was still having trouble focusing. I promised myself I'd take a bump in the restroom right after this meeting. "Thought me and Rude were supposed to do this."

"You'll be partnered with Elena from now on," Tseng said smoothly.

My head flipped up, mouth dropping in shock.

_MOTHERFUCKERRR._

* * *

"You're awfully quiet," I snapped at Elena. I rolled my head toward her insolently.

She slid her eyes around to me, arms folded, then looked over to her left and jerked her chin so I'd follow her gaze. I twisted, squinting, but didn't dare try to stand. My legs shook even leaning most of my weight on good old Number Four.

* * *

I didn't go straight to the bar. I drove in a murderously fast roundabout way further downtown, pockets stuffed with gil. I cursed when a mutt ran under my wheels, my stomach lurching sickly. I knew that once I got to my destination, I wouldn't care about the stupid thing, or about that—

_MO-THER-FUCK-ER._

* * *

Our contact strolled toward us, wobbly and indistinct to my blurred vision. I twirled my nightstick on the end of the strap, agitated. I didn't like not being able to see. Bad enough we didn't even know his name.

Elena's fingers twitched on her arm, just visible as little peach blurs on black with pink gloss dotting them. Her back was to me. Her silky blonde hair flipped in the wind, a fuzzy cloud.

I chomped harder on my gum. I normally would have pointed at her hair, elbowed the omnipresent dark-skinned tall guy beside me, and snickered to him, "Look who borrowed Cloud's wig today."

Except that MOTHERFUCKER wasn't there.

* * *

Dough turned into dust, I inhaled quite a bit standing right there while the guy was still counting my gil. It was unfortunate that then the details of his water-damaged sty then became painfully clear to me, but I couldn't stand to wait and at least here I knew was safe to do it without anyone fucking with me.

A girl like a deformed sack of bones hung half-off the couch. A grimy syringe dangled from twiglike fingers wrapped in translucent gauze of cracked skin. Her other hand curtained her eyes, thank god. I don't think I would have liked to see either her expression or myself reflected.

Burning traveled like a dynamite wick up into my brain, where it flickered and exploded in fiery pain. I shuddered, tipping my head back. My heart's status felt like Fury-Haste-Poison, achingly fast thuds beating on my ribcage to get out. I fumbled the bag trying to put it away, but my reflexes were so spun up I caught it before it hit the carpet. My knees hit instead with a jarring thud that rammed my teeth down on my numb tongue.

"Careful, there," said the rough-voiced man behind me.

I seethed, getting to my feet. It's a sorry thing when your dealer tells you to go easy, but I was beyond warnings. I managed to leave without smashing in or even looking at his face.

I knew I would need him again tomorrow, and the next day, and probably every day until I forgot for good the smell of her hair, the touch of her skin, the taste of her pouty lower lip, the sound of her laugh, the sight of her lighting up whenever she saw me even if it had only been a couple of hours. As if I was as awesome as I pretended to be.

* * *

Elena didn't dare look back at me. Somewhere in the leaky lurching chemical factory of my brain I knew I should be standing with her to meet this guy and show solidarity. Just as keenly, though, I knew if I stood upright I would fall on my face. I knew that would compromise our show of strength to a much greater degree than if I just affected this so-what bored lean that was actually a desperate need of physical support.

* * *

I'd gone to the Dragon & Dolphin then.

I'm pretty sure I didn't stay long.

I'm almost positive there was a girl and a guy and we left together.

I'd hazard a guess we went back to their place.

It probably wouldn't be wrong to assume we all had sex.

In a blaze of red dust, I still couldn't forget, no matter how hard I tried, the sheen of sweat on his bald head under me. I only forgot what color the skin was.

I didn't want to remember.

I'd hurt him. A lot. Thinking about a motherfucker I wanted to hurt, and fucking some random bald guy. That bothered me way more than the fact that I couldn't remember if I'd used protection.

* * *

The wind was so bad and my ears humming so hard I could only make out fragments of words exchanged between Elena and the man in an olive trench coat. I strained to hear and my stomach roiled.

I tasted the brake-fluid aesthetic of cheap whiskey and bile at the back of my throat.

* * *

I'd thrown up all night afterward until it was time to go to the airstrip, doing desperate lines between dry heaves.

I'd had to drink half a bottle of whiskey to steady my hands, knowing Elena didn't have a pilot's license.

At the time it didn't occur to me that I shouldn't have been flying at all. I did what I always did—what I was ordered to do—my job.

* * *

Gunshots jolted me. I almost tumbled forward, but endorphins and instincts are a remarkable thing. I wouldn't say I entirely sobered in that moment, but icy spikes of reality jammed through my body and brain and hurled me at Elena, rolling her to the ground. I whipped my EMR up and around and on.

Fashion Victim lay dead beside us on the ground. A bullet grazed my upthrust wrist. I hissed in pain and twisted to check the chopper. So far no serious damage.

Elena struggled to sit up around me, her gun out, and the staccato bursts from it nearly deafened me. I scrambled up under her covering fire. Crouching, we ran for the chopper.

I wrenched open the door with my uninjured hand, shoved her in and scrambled up after her. Another sting of pain hit my calf, this one more profound. I screamed even as I punched up the engines and the blades roared to life overhead. I didn't even wait to strap in, aware that every bullet zinging through the air outside could hit the rotor or the fuel every moment Number Four was in range. I took off.

Elena was whimpering in the co-pilot's seat. I didn't turn to look, just got us up and away. She moved around beside me. Holding the control stick with my knees I fumbled around for my headset underneath the seat. Elena nudged me with mine, so I could jam it on over my ears and then focus on fastening straps.

"What the hell happened, Reno?" she snarled, gasping. "It was your mission, I'm supposed to be backup! I could have covered our asses if I hadn't had to talk to the contact while you dozed off! I don't care what Tseng says, I'm not partnering with you anymore until you shape up! Rude was right!"

"Shut up!" I snapped. "Just shut up, all right? I have to fly and I'm bleeding all over the fucking place, goddamn."

"So am I! And it's your fault!" she raged.

"It ain't my fault it was a fucking setup!" I said.

"More like an ambush, and they wouldn't have gotten the drop on us if you'd been doing your _job_!"

"Ambush, whatever! I don't fucking care!" My head spun, never a good thing when trying to fly a helicopter. "You got any cure materia? Or potions?"

"If I did I'd be using them on myself right now. Why didn't you bring any?!"

I seethed.

_Because Rude…_

_Shut the fuck up, brain! Not now!_ I tried to kill the thought.

_…always handles that shit._

"Reno."

I didn't answer, hoping she'd shut up.

"_Reno._ This is important. Are you high right now?"

I barked a laugh. "We're in the _air_, dipshit!"

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it! Are you on anything?"

"No."

"Reno. Don't you dare lie about this. If you're too fucked up to fly…"

"Since you didn't hear me the first time, _I've been shot_, Elena! I'm losing blood! I can't even check my leg to see how bad it is 'cause I need to pilot and I'm liable to pass out if I see my own blood right now. Unless you can produce another qualified pilot with that yammering little mouth of yours, just fucking SHUT IT!"

We flew back to Edge in merciful if furious silence.

* * *

Ordinarily when forced to wait in the director's office for him, I would snoop through his shit. He had it laid out exactly like his old office in the Shinra Building in Midgar, albeit smaller. I'd loved to prowl his space like a cat, keeping an ear cocked for the sound of his careful, light footfalls on the carpet outside. That day my head was spinning from the painkillers I'd scarfed down as soon as I had them in my hot little hand, regardless of the booze I'd had earlier.

My head swam and nodded as I waited to get discharged from Shinra's medical unit. I'd lied through my teeth during intake about my drug habits and what I'd taken that day, trying to negate the danger to my career above the damage to my body. If I'd cared about my mortality more than my job I wouldn't have been made a Turk in the first place.

I did a line of Move the first moment I had to myself, in the med-unit restroom. While it kept me from falling asleep, it made me feel like my skull was being ripped apart from the inside and vampire bats were flapping under every corner of my skin. I scratched at my scalp frantically, almost unable to stop.

Mercifully, I couldn't feel my leg anymore. I hadn't had to put up with any physical discomfort for more than a few hours in over a year. The doctor had said something about how many weeks I'd have to take it easy on my leg, but the specifics hazed in the blaring drugged-out discotheque in my brain. I remember feeling really pissed at Schala destroying my pain endurance by healing even the slightest papercut whenever she touched me.

_All this is your fucking fault, you sadistic bitch!_ I raged at her in my head. _I wish you were still alive so I could fucking murder you!_

_God, you'd be so hard to kill… you'd just keep healing… and screaming…_

I clutched and bent my head, whole body twitching and shivering, filled with revulsion and satisfaction at the sick fantasy unfolding in my head. My legs twisted around the legs of the chair, trying to hold my body to where I was. I felt acidic memory bubbling up and seeping around the edges of my thoughts.

Blood, all around and under and over me, violent hands of wind dragging at me, sky like boiling cigarette ash. Weight so light and so heavy in my arms as she fails to move. My voice trapped behind a wall or underwater, softly screaming two syllables that do fuck all. Smell of iron.

A noise shattered the scene, which in my state didn't even have the courtesy to feel like a memory anymore. I spun around, knocking the chair over and nearly stumbling where it caught around my feet. Tseng stood behind me, his face not quite blank.

I struggled to uncoil. My fists wouldn't release, nails digging harshly into my palm.

"Sir," I said through my teeth, not out of anger but effort. My world hung ragged around me like skin around a deep bloody wound. I tried to pick up the chair I'd upset with my foot and staggered. Disoriented, I bent to lift it with my hands. It took all my focus to get it right side up and then myself also right side up in it. I clenched the arms. Tseng walked around his desk but instead of sitting he went to the window and looked out, still as a statue.

The silence made me uncomfortable. In it I heard, like distant sirens, a tide of screams beckoning from the hellish sea of my past. Some of the screams had the resonance of my own heard from inside my head. Far more were those I'd instigated and witnessed.

I wanted to talk over them, but didn't know what to say. I had no desire to explain myself to Tseng. In retrospect, I couldn't have even explained myself to me, nor did I give a fuck. I didn't know what storm was gathering in that deceptively pretty Wuteng skull and wanted to reserve all my defensiveness and charm to counter whatever he threw at me.

"The reprimands and warnings I gave you have gone unheeded," he said. "You're suspended for two weeks. If you cannot pull yourself together in that time your employment will be terminated."

"What?" I said.

He said nothing.

"…Wait, _what_?!" I leaned forward. "You can't be serious!" The nightmares in my head fused to the one unfolding before me. The buildings outside flickered, as did the size and coloring of Tseng's office, as Edge and Midgar got muddled. Tseng's office had been six times higher in Midgar, so the buildings subsided and surged up like the track of a rollercoaster, switching between the Plate and a forest of brand-new skyscraper husks.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" I screamed at his unmoving back. "Okay, yeah, I fucked up today! I'll admit it! But goddamn, Tseng, missions go bad for all of us! It's not like it's never happened to you, sir!"

Tseng swiveled, his arms folded. His eyes were unbelievably hard. "This is not solely about the mission, although your performance and conduct today were below acceptability for even the lowest-ranking Shinra employee. There is no excuse for your incomparable failure."

I hissed through my teeth. I don't make a habit of bitching out my superiors. I do what I'm told and I'm incredible at it. I'm an insolent son of a bitch, but I don't make excuses, I make improvements. But this was too much.

"Look, sir, just 'cause I got your girlfriend shot…"—I saw his eyes flare but didn't connect that it was time to shut my trap—"ain't a reason to suspend me. This shit comes with the job, no one knows that better than you! She's a motherfucking Turk, for god's sake!"

"_So are you_!" he roared, and I reeled from his volume. Tseng's not a screamer. He's full of quiet menace and calculating sadism, the kind of evil I respect and admire but could never contain myself enough to emulate. Not that I'd want to—I like being loud and messy. This was the first time in all the years I'd known Tseng that he'd ever yelled at anyone, and it was me.

He stalked over and grabbed the arms of my chair and my wrists along with them, clamping down painfully hard as he leaned over me, fury flashing out of his dark eyes. I reflexively leaned back in alarm. I tugged on my wrists and he placed his right foot over mine and pushed down. My leg was numb, but not that numb.

"…For the time being," he added in a growl. "Two weeks is more than I would give anyone else. You have profoundly disappointed me. You have displayed unforgivable disrespect for your position, your company, your coworkers, and _yourself_, Reno."

He released me abruptly, spun away and circled his desk while my head was still spinning. At the time I was so fucked up that everything seemed surreal and out of place, so his uncharacteristic outburst just blended in with the rest of the insanity.

"Reflect on what you are becoming and come to a decision." He slid smoothly into his desk chair and touched his keyboard, not even looking at me anymore. "If you aren't sober by that time do not bother coming back. That is all."

Humiliated, furious, I stood up. I walked out and kicked the door shut so hard I left a dent in its flimsy white-painted metal and sent a screaming rocket of pain through the leg I'd forgotten was still injured.

"_MOTHERFUCKER_!" I limped down the hall, cursing at the top of my lungs.

The weight of the little plastic bag in my inner breast pocket felt insubstantial in the face of what just happened. I felt an urgent need to get downtown in a hurry. I walked faster, gritting my teeth through searing ribbons of pain from the insertion of my leg at my hip all the way to my toes. My tendons and muscles felt riddled with razor blades.

_Fuck all this!_ I thought. _Fuck Tseng! Fuck Rude! Fuck Elena! Fuck Schala! Fuck 'em all! Goddamn, I'm gonna rock so much Move I can't even feel my fucking leg so I can fucking beat the ever-loving holy shit out of those backstreet bitches! AAAAAARGH motherfucking goddamn shitting pissing bloody hell! Fuck it ALL!_

_FUCK ME! I'm motherfucking Reno of the goddamn Turks, I don't need this bullshit! You'll see, I'm gonna kill all you bitches and then I'll piss on your fucking graves! Goddamn, will you ever be sorry you fucked with me! FUUUCK!_

* * *

Funny thing about rock bottom.

There are ledges on the way down. If you hit them with enough force, you don't realize there's farther still to fall.

* * *

I spun a complete one-eighty and slammed into the brick wall. My left hand came up reflexively to brace and shooting pain reminded me that it had been shot as well, albeit grazed. I snarled like an animal from deep in my gut. I shoved off and ducked as I spun to ram my right fist into the nutsack of the guy behind me.

My guts felt knotted up and acidic.

_Sunday morning light streaming through the bare picture window frames her in a haze of gold. She's lying alone in the center of the bed, hand uncurled on the empty pillow next to her. Pale peach and electric blue against bright red sheets._

I rolled as I hit the ground. My eyes swam so much it took me a minute to realize I was fighting two jerks instead of one at this point. I grew incensed. The stronger the enemy I'm fighting the more jazzed about it I get. The more rein I let out for my anger to just go and carry me with it.

_I heave my body off the doorframe and flop carelessly on the bed, jostling her awake._

_"Sorry," I mutter._

_"S'okay," she murmurs, stretching._

Sharp jabs of fingertips and edges of palms rained on me from three directions. Red mist veiled my sight. Blood flowed freely from my nose, my hair soaked with sweat and itching royally from the interaction of pain pills, booze and Move.

I don't know at what point the dogpile on me began in earnest. I didn't feel much of anything. My brain had come unmoored from the present and flapped around like a goddamn pleasurecraft sail. I'd somehow grasped the ability to keep fighting whether I was in my body or hammered into the claustrophobic coffin of a past I couldn't change.

_"Everyone gone?" I say, over the shower._

_"Rod's still here. He's like the dead."_

_I snicker. "Yup, that's Rod. Kid's still a lightweight. Fine, get in here." I rinse out my conditioner._

_She shook her head, outside the open curtain. "I wish I could, I've got an appointment."_

_I spit water out of my mouth, blinking at her. "What appointment?"_

"RAA!" I heard myself scream, as much at the fragments of memory as at the suffocating mass of men who were trying to smother me out of the world. I whirled, kicked, bit, flung bits of the grunting and sweating mass of testosterone across the smelly dirty pavement and up against convenient walls.

_"I've got a new job. I have to get the paperwork filled out today."_

_"Job? Wait, what the fuck?" I lean out of the shower, dripping on the tile. "You never mentioned this."_

Much as I tried to blot it out, I could feel what was coming, pressure dropping in my brain, a hurricane of trepidation at the knowledge of what this memory meant. The morning after our housewarming in Edge. I was about to feel more than I could bear.

It made me fierce and nasty. I assaulted the fighters on and around and over me. I spat something squishy out of my mouth. I didn't know if it was my flesh or someone else's. I almost couldn't feel anything anymore. Engines of adrenalin drove my helpless, numb body in the absence of sensory input of where each muscle and piece of myself lay. I felt like a marionette in the hands of my demonic rage.

_"It happened last night. Reeve's given me a job at the WRO."_

_"_Whaaaat_?!" I shut off the shower. "What the fuck, Bami? What are you doing working for them? Why not Shinra? Fucking hell!" I scrambled for a towel, glaring at her._

A break in the storm. Everyone suddenly pulled back. I spun around, growling, paranoid, wondering if they were massing for a coordinated attack. I saw fear and disgust in their retreating faces. Some melted beyond the range of my visual focus, which was hampered by something dripping in my eyes and the persistent spinning of the alley around me.

_"…What are you supposed to do?"_

_"Convince people with resources to put them toward projects that will help those in need—roads, fuel, food, hospitals, housing, and so forth. Educate, advocate, enlighten, inform, bring people together…"_

The alley was nearly empty now. I took the opportunity to dig my Move out of my pants and do bumps from my nail, one for each nostril. Only a bit more of the hated memory squeaked out before the dust kicked in:

_"…Reeve's just using you, you know…"_

I ground my teeth, popped another pain pill to kill some random throbbing I felt dimly aware of, and followed it up with a fresh cube of gum to gnash on. I glanced around for someone else to distract with and found myself completely alone. I'd cleared the whole place.

My chest tightened. I scrambled for shoes and shirt, more afraid to be alone with myself than anything else in the world at that moment.

Me. Reno of the Turks. Who used to pride himself on not needing anyone, ever. My self-assured awesomeness had evaporated quicker than a blonde's virginity in my presence.

I scrambled to my car. When I yanked open the door two bottles hit the street and rolled. The jangling noise made me wince and undigested booze hit the back of my throat. I swallowed hastily as I slid into the squeaky leather seat. My whole body bathed in rank sweat. I couldn't remember when I'd last showered or seen daylight.

I peeled out recklessly.

I don't remember at what point I hit a streetlamp. I do remember cursing, bumping back off the curve so violently I fishtailed, and ramming my foot back on the accelerator as I careened.

I parked askew across three spaces, not easy when you've got a toy-sized car like I did. I stumbled as I tried to stand. I slammed against the open car door I was climbing through. On the pavement, hands skinned and bleeding, I tried furiously to figure out why I'd fallen. I couldn't remember or feel my injury anymore.

I levered myself up and limped into a bar. As the door opened my ears filled with the sounds of happy drunk people. My libido stirred as my embittered heart withdrew into the past.

_"Are you really upset?"_

_"I just…" I bury a hand in my hair, peering at her. "You really wanna do this, huh?"_

In an overloud voice I ordered a drink. The prettiest and youngest shied away. I didn't give a shit. I needed warm, unresisting bodies. The place smelled like a dive, so clearly standards didn't run high here. I didn't want someone hard to get. I wanted someone alive. I wanted fresh. I needed to kill or fuck, and killing wasn't really on the Turks' agenda enough for my taste anymore.

_She nods, searching my eyes, and sinks to her knees in front of me. "The world has given me so much. It gave me you. I want to give back."_

_I melt, reaching out to stroke her cheek._

I was too upset and too much in a hurry to race to the bathroom to do more Move, so I just popped another pill, and there I went blank for a while. I don't know how long.

"Hey, what gives?"

I struggled to connect to the voice in the present, paused in my thrusting. I leaned over the girl on her hands and knees, panting, my sweat dripping onto her back. Or maybe his back. It was a willowy, pale, generic back.

_…melt, reaching out …_

_…her cheek…_

"C'mon already!" The ass thrust back at me. I gave it a hearty smack, but more out of reflex and anger than any desire to please or be pleased. I heard a grunt beneath me.

My eyes slid shut, burning as if my lids were made of steel wool. My jaw refused to release even enough to breathe through my mouth. I sucked in air through my stopped-up nose in desperation.

_It's YOUR FAULT_, screamed my thoughts. _You could have talked her out of it. When you realized just how much Reeve was using her, why didn't you tell her to stop?_

_It made her so happy_, I remembered sickly.

_Yeah, happy to get worked to death. You should have fought her_, my brain hammered at me.

I groaned long and loud through my nose, pulling away from my thoughts as well as the protesting person. I grunted at his-or-her shrill voice as I searched around for my pants. Once I found them and located my Move, I stretched out on the linoleum, too weary to find a flatter surface, and started doing lines to cage and crush the shame.

The red ran out. No more. I felt gunshot-like panicked need bang through my body. I whimpered, pawed through pockets, heard a rattle and rolled out the pain pills.

My violently trembling, sweaty, numb hands made a mess of them, trying to scoop them into the bottle or my mouth. I heard them clattering, over and over, even after I'd swallowed and stopped moving. My brain replayed the painful noise in an endless loop.

_…your FAULT… your fault… YOUR fault…_

_HOW COULD I HAVE KNOWN?!_

An edge to a soft giggle somehow broke through my torment. I managed to peel my eyes open and found a girl with dirty, greasy hair falling in hanks around her face kneeling beside me in dim orange light through dirty windows. She giggled again, almost manically. I chilled, already clammy with sweat. She was doing something near the floor, out of sight. I smelled something like metal and burning hair.

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak to ask what the fuck she wanted. I only hoped whatever she had in mind would be over soon and wouldn't involve the leg that was starting to ache again.

She lifted her hands so they'd catch the light, squinting at what she held. A needle glinted on the end of her syringe.

_No no no no no no no…_ I thought in hypnotic horror. I struggled to push noise out, some noise, any signal to stop her.

She looked down at me and grinned, eyes shining. She appeared to sense my distress.

"Shh," she said. "You're going to love it…"

_NOOO! No no no!_

She lowered the needle. I gave a last frantic try to move any part of me. I couldn't so much as get my fingers to twitch. The pain pills, booze and Move had all coalesced to turn my body into a weighted prison for my screaming mind.

I vaguely felt my mostly-numb arm being prodded. I flushed with heat. My skin pinched. Something cool washed into my veins. I had a split-second of nightmarish trepidation. And then the bottom dropped out.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Reno_**

5 from 59.  
5 from 59.  
5 from 59.

They say you're not supposed to be aware when you're having a seizure.  
Maybe that ain't what this is.  
Can't control my convulsions.

Pinioned like a thrashing butterfly.

Crackhead Girl's pulling away. Looks disgusted. I feel sick.

Help ain't comin'.

People wake around me. Inaudible. Bubbling. Fish under water.  
Darting away.  
Afraid.

"_EAAAAAH_!"

* * *

Fucking fucked-up security system!

In sheer frustration, emptying my magazine into the elevator's roof. Bullets ricochet in all directions. Duck and cover.

Don't panic.

Breathe.

Think.

Call Tseng.

"Reno, we've got some news for you. The eight-digit code should be related to the date the company discovered that Mako could be used as an energy source. You'll only have two chances to get the code right before the system will lock you out. You'll have to be careful."

"So I only get two shots?"

Out of time. Gotta put the code in. Day the company discovered Mako…?

19530923!

Yeah, bitch! Who's your daddy?! RENO'S your daddy!

…Why isn't it opening? What does this say…?

'PLEASE INPUT CODE #2.'

"What the—code number two?! What the hell is that?"

CEILING APPROACHING

GOING TO DIE

WHERE THE FUCK IS TSENG?!

* * *

End of the world.

* * *

"Boss, I still ain't got the second code yet… If we don't figure out something soon I'm gonna get pissed off…"

"Reno. The override code is the subtraction of five from the elevator's top floor. The shaft you are in ends at floor fifty-nine."

"You have got to be shitting me."

5 from 59.

SHIT I CAN'T COUNT THAT WELL

UNDER PRESSURE

FINGERS! MATH!

HURRY!

5 FROM 59!

"You've still got five floors 'til you reach the shaft ceiling. That said, the second code will be…" …static…

"Boss? I… can't hear you. Damn it. No good…"

Five floors down—shaft ceiling: 59—current floor: 54—5 from 59

54.

VICTORY! It opened!

…and a pair of fucking Protogolems clang down onto the top of the elevator beside me, so hard the whole thing shakes.

"Oh, gimme a fucking break, you guys. I ain't about to die here with a couple of robots…"

Panic. Not thinking clearly. Not fighting well. Thrown sprawling on the elevator roof.

CEILING APPROACHING

DEATH IMMINENT

EYES SHUT

* * *

Green light like a monster destroying everything in its path as it rushes inside the Shinra building. A storm. Windowless haven of metal bathroom cubicles.

Death of the building that's our home, our lives, the core of our company, of us. Diamond Weapon stabbed it in the face. Now the Lifestream's tearing it apart. End of the world.

Rude, in the next bathroom stall over: "This is my fault."

"What is?"

"If I didn't suggest we come back to collect the tool box then…"

"Forget it, man. Now's not the time to feel sorry."

* * *

5 from 59.

"_EAAAAAH_!"

* * *

Noises of shattering glass and ripping metal and roaring wind insulated by tile. Floor and walls tremble like leaves under a pair of insects in gale-force winds.

"Rude?" My voice echoes hollowly in the empty Shinra bathroom.

"What is it?"

"We've been together for a long time."

"Yeah."

"Partners, right?"

"Yeah."

"The best partners."

* * *

Gunshot. Crackle near my hand, jerk away from the chopper's control stick.

In my ear: "_EAAAAAH_!"

"_Rude_!" My head whips around. The silver-haired fucktard's motorbike plummets toward Edge far below at high speed.

Grab the stick. Turn the chopper. Focus on diving down and catching that bald bastard before his body splashes far below.

* * *

Pinioned like a thrashing butterfly.

* * *

Snap.

I frown in confusion at the disconnected stick in my hand, then it dawns what has happened.

"_Yaa-aaaahhhh_!"

The chopper starts to spin out of control. Urgent, repetitive beeping.

Straps off, headset off, scramble up and into the empty cabin, wind picking up speed through the open door where my partner had been standing seconds ago.

"No, no, don't _do_ this to me!"

* * *

End of the world.

Stench of decomposing bodies.

* * *

Silver hair flying wide and wild on the breeze that whips Schala's black clothes around her.

_That's not one of those creeps! That's Sephiroth!_

The trajectory of her leap simultaneously slams her into the silver-haired general and they tumble out of sight. Leap out of cockpit, heart in throat. Run to cabin to jump down to where they are.

_Sephiroth is back! Oh my fucking Holy, we're all going to die—starting with her!_

* * *

Blue.

* * *

I see Schala pinioned like a thrashing butterfly on the end of the Masamune in Sephiroth's hand.

"_NO_!"

Cloud's running at them. So am I. Too late, too late.

* * *

"_EAAAAAH_!"

* * *

Drop from a run to kneeling, skidding and slipping in a spreading pool of her blood. Her body, at the center, so still. She's so heavy as I lift, throat tightening. No response. No Lifestream.

"Schala! _Schala_!"

Heart thudding. Drowning out my desperate cries, dampening swordfight, airship and chopper engines in the distance. Unimportant chaos.

Panic, shock. Sudden bleak despair. I've seen enough bodies, killed enough to know when someone's really gone.

I'm dimly aware of Tifa and Yuffie arriving on her other side. Rage explodes up from under despair, firing me to my feet and into a run.

Kill. Sephiroth.

Kill that fucker or die trying.

Rude grabs me. Bad idea. I whirl and punch him to the ground without even a thought. Anything in my way is going to get run over and Reno'd.

* * *

Crumpled form at the base of the staircase.

* * *

Stench of cooked flesh and blood assails me. Time slows as I turn my head and follow Cloud's eyes to the charred ground. It's a body. Skin blackened in places, hair burned. Half the face is a ruin. The left half, pale though scorched, lies pressed against a half-curled hand. Eye closed as if in sleep. Pink lips slightly parted. Tattered purple covers the body, riddled with gaps where it's burnt and melted.

Her face. Her body. It's her. I've never spent so much time studying one woman's body. I've got it memorized. Even in this sickening state, familiar details scream through my eyes into my brain. No one else has that crazy blue hair. The blue I love, 'cause it's one more thing about her that isn't like anyone else. The hair I tug on to drive her nuts and make her playfully hit me first thing in the morning when I wanna fight before work.

Without thinking my hand shoots out and snatches a grip on Cloud's shoulder. He doesn't so much as flinch as I lean on him and stare at her. I can't feel my body. I can't look away.

I don't understand why the Lifestream ain't healing her.

Life's thrown a lot of knives at me. This hits like a hundred, perforating every part of me. I'm full of holes that go all the way through.

I can't feel. I can't think.

I just can't.

* * *

Pinioned like a thrashing butterfly.

I can't.  
I can't.  
I can't.  
I keep coming back here.  
This moment.  
This.  
It doesn't change. It motherfucking gets clearer.  
I don't want to come here. I don't have a choice. It's a disease boiling in me.  
Heat and smell and blue and fuck me.  
Wind blowing through me, whistling in the empty spaces that are gonna stay there forever.  
I can't make it stop.  
I can't shut it out.  
I can't stop feeling. I can't stop thinking.  
I just can't.

Feelings big as Hell Houses, hunting me down. I'd thrown drugs and women and fights underneath to try to trip the fuckers up. I can't run anymore. They descend to devour me whole. I feel breath pressing out of me. Their staggering creaking forms blot out the light.

Swallowed by a toothy Hell House of screaming vast empty loneliness. Then that house gets swallowed by wretched self-loathing shame. Even more dagger-sharp teeth splinter through the walls.

Powerful as a god.

5 from 59.

* * *

Goddamn you. Leaving me here like this.

Fuck you, you bitch.

Fuck you for loving me. You had no right to think I was worth that. You had no right to fool me into thinking that too. Fuck you for addicting me to you and fuck you for leaving me.

Withdrawal from you is the shittiest thing that's ever happened to me.

I wanna cut you out of me. I wanna cut out all the shit you put in me. Love, need, memory, joy, ecstasy, pieces of me I didn't need and didn't ask for.

Give me back the shitty selfish son of a bitch I used to be before you showed up. Give me back the strength you took away by degrees every day I wanted you.

I've never been so weak and alone in my life. Insufficient. Impotent.

I don't need anybody. I never have. Rude may be my partner but I can Turk it up just fine without him. You, though, you weaseled into every part of me, the way you'd hit my thoughts even when I'm brushing my teeth, fucking with my hair, putting a bullet in someone's head, watching the side of a mountain blow up. You're always there even when you're not, even when you're dead.

Just fuck off already, Schala. Go to hell and leave me alone. If you ain't got the decency to be here alive then fuck the fucking fuck off.

I wish I'd never met you…

…I wish so fucking much that wish wasn't a lie…

* * *

Help ain't comin'.

Dead Rat.

End of the world.

* * *

Footfalls. My eyes flick over and my breath stops. She sinks down to a seated position on the floor beside me. I gaze up at her, desperately afraid. I don't want her to leave again. I don't want to wake up again.

I've been avoiding sleep 'cause of the recurring nightmare where she's still alive, or she's come back to life somehow. Accompanied by the absolute certainty that while every other time has been a dream, this time it's real.

My brain's a sadistic motherfucker. I fall for it every time, like the slow kid me and my gang used to torture back in under-Four—"c'mere, nah, we won't hurt you this time!" Snickering, because when he trots over, we do hurt him. The kid's slowness surely wasn't helped by frequent head injuries he suffered at our amused hands.

I thought it was fucking funny at the time, wondering how long we could keep the game going, how many times the kid would come back. We laughed our asses off. Guess these nightmares are payback. It ain't the dream that's bad. Waking up is hell. Losing her all over again every time.

I'm afraid if I move or make a sound she'll vanish. I'm not sure I can move yet anyway, or if I ever will again.

_Maybe I'm dead_, I think hopefully. _Maybe she's come to take me back to the Lifestream with her. Maybe this is over and I can finally rest._

She sighs, putting an elbow on her knee, chin in hand. She shakes her head at me.

"You're a mess," she says, not particularly kindly. Her voice is overloud in the musty, filthy abandoned flat.

I swallow. I'm so afraid. Words come out of me anyway, a raspy whisper barely above a breath. "This ain't exactly my finest hour, babe."

Her eyebrows lift. "…No."

I want to reach for her. My fingers twitch.

"If I was still here I would see you for what you really are," she says. "It's not me you're trying so desperately to obliterate and outrun. It's what you were when you were with me."

I hiss in pain. Her words cut into me unexpectedly. This isn't going at all like a normal nightmare. She's not usually like this.

"How could I love someone who does that to me?" she says, quietly. "I may forgive a lot, Lyrant, but you're a nasty son of a bitch. And you know it." She straightens and gets to her feet. I stare up at her. She's moving farther away every moment, almost out of sight.

_Please don't leave me_, I can't manage to say. I hurt so fucking bad. She dissipates into shadow. My head lolls to the side in miserable, aching defeat.

* * *

Crumpled form at the base of the staircase.

Blue.

I can't.

* * *

Loud noises. Screaming at each other at the front door of our miserable flat. I raid the kitchen while they're distracted. I throw whatever isn't molded or spoilt into my stolen olive drab military satchel with a faded red Shinra logo. In go the condiments. Hell, they've got salt, and can cover up the disgustingness of stuff rescued from trashcans behind diner dives.

I cram a good bit of not-really-food in my mouth, too. My concave torso always blazes with rumbling achiness. I shove what I can in it when I can, but I never seem to grow. I'm the most pathetic eleven-year-old pipsqueak I know. If it weren't for my batshit crazy rages I'd never lead a gang. But I do—and I don't need this shit.

Mom said she won't leave him 'cause he needs her. She makes all the money, and he pisses it away on booze and cards. It's a crock of shit. She's used to him. She's dead inside. Nothing matters enough, except me. The only time she comes alive is when she hauls off and punches him while he's beating the shit out of me. And he makes her fucking pay, every time.

She makes me nuts. I ain't good with words. I can't figure out how to get her to leave with me, go somewhere far away. Maybe even leave goddamn Midgar and get out in the sunlight. We're all sick and withered inside from this place.

If she didn't stand up to him I wouldn't stay for her. I'm fucking done with this shit, though. I'm leaving today, and I don't know if I'll come back. I can't protect her from him, she can't protect me from him, and I don't know why we're here.

The front door slams open, making dust cascade from the ceiling. I cough. Everything smells so nasty in the kitchen. The sink's backed up again. I head for the door. He's in my way. I curse and start to go for the fire escape when I hear her scream, his yelling stop and a noisy series of thuds. I pivot on my heel, frowning. The door stands open and empty.

I head out onto the landing. He's standing frozen on the top step, meaty hand on the banister. I smell rank alcohol, sweat and tobacco on him. I get a sick twitchy feeling inside as I lean out over the railing. A crumpled form sprawls at the base of the staircase.

I swing my body over and leap down, bag bouncing on my bony hip as I run. A ground-floor apartment door opens, briefly. I see a flash of a dark face and then the door slams.

I drop to my knees. I paw her frizzy red hair back from her face. Her bluegreen eyes stare at nothing. I lift my head and twist to look at my father, high above us.

* * *

Powerful as a god.

Help ain't comin'.

* * *

His hands are opening and closing. He actually looks worried for the first time in my life.

"It was an accident," he rumbles.

I rise to my feet. My face is burning. My nails dig into my palms.

"She… she fell," he said. "Yeah… that's it. She fell. I… I tried to catch her, but…" He stares at me.

I charge up the stairs at him, seized by the fires of hell. I don't care that I'm gonna die, that this is the stupidest thing I've ever done. I fly at his face, my sheer speed and murderous rage bearing him into the wall and cracking the plaster behind him. He still seems in shock, maybe even more so as I claw and bite and kick him.

I've never fought like this before. It spirals out of my core. I'm spinning and kicking like I see those pro fighters do in back alleys, like I practice in the middle of the night in my room. I sense him hitting me but I don't feel any pain. Something pounds through me like the most bitchin' music I've ever heard, pouring out of me like bass from a club, battering the motherfucker who spawned me and killed my mother.

I ricochet off walls. If I wasn't so bloody angry I might be basking in my peak, but it ain't enough. He throws me down the stairs. I manage to tuck and roll. In a posthumous act of accidental mercy my mom's body breaks my fall.

My head whips up. I glare after my dad, who's slamming the front door behind him and locking it. I crawl off my mom. I can feel the pain now. I spit blood out of my mouth. I hear sirens approaching.

I grind my teeth, spring up and dive out the front door. I ain't strong enough yet. I gotta go get bigger. I gotta survive, now. I have to. I can't die, 'cause I've gotta kill that fucker with my own two hands for ruining my life and taking hers.

_I promise._

I run down an alley, my eyes burning, unable to stop.

* * *

Pinioned like a thrashing butterfly.

Dead Rat.

* * *

Smell of smoke, thick as fog and permeating everything. It's a boon to be a smoker today. Where everyone else fighting the lingering fires from Meteor's destruction coughs and gags, I light my cigarette off the smoldering rubble.

I catch my partner's disapproving frown as I straighten and stretch with a pleasurable exhale. I grin and purse my lips to blow the last of my tobacco smoke at his glasses, admiring my reflection.

I'm alive today. So is this gorgeous motherfucker, my best friend and cohort. Not twelve hours ago it was the end of the world, and now there's actually going to be a future for both us and it.

We have a job to do, and though it's a little unusual and outside our repertoire—saving people and clearing up fallout damage rather than killing and causing—Turks are fast learners and incredibly resourceful. People harass us just 'cause we're Shinra, sure, but mostly everyone's damn grateful for any help at all.

My PHS beeps with a page on the emergency frequency. "Reno," I mutter into it, around one of the most triumphant cigarettes I've ever sucked down.

"Elena," comes the blonde rookie's voice. "You guys finished with Sectors Six and Seven yet?"

"Yeah, we… what?" I freeze, twisting around. In the chaos nothing about Midgar looks the same, especially with the streets clogged with bodies and hysterical and injured survivors, medical and firefighting teams we're coordinating. It's all about the people, not the place, so until she'd named it I didn't know our location. "…Yeah, nearly done…" I say distractedly. "Reno out." I put the phone away, walking to the end of the street.

Cobblestones like shed scales lie in heaps across the promenade before me. I recognize it. I'd killed an AVALANCHE man here with a sniper rifle, from high in a building that was now a pathetic mound of masonry and dust. I was sixteen at the time and it was my first sharpshooting mission. I stand on the edge of Sector Seven.

The sounds of chaos behind me fades. Here there are no medical teams, firefighters few and far between. I stand alone in the plaza. But not really alone. Bodies are buried in the ruin.

They're not fresh, not like most of the ones I've been seeing all day. God, they stink to high heaven. Their skin almost matches the sad grey and brown half-burying them. Sightless pale eyes point like sniper sights at nothing and everything.

They were already dead when Meteor struck. The impact had to have flattened the existing rubble enough that we could get through here to where the Plate dropped several weeks ago. Where I dropped it.

* * *

Shiny and red. Round little button.

"You're too late," I say over my shoulder to the three rushing me. "Once I push this button…" and I do, which reassures me with a mellow beep, "That's all, folks! Mission accomplished!" I swivel to face them, shoving my hands in my pocket, EMR dangling on its strap from my left wrist. I give them my most self-satisfied smirk.

It's a good life, in the Turks. Pretty soon everything around me is gonna be a whirlwind of sound and fury. Explosive, destructive, on fire—like me.

That stacked fighter chick runs in her short little skirt for the console. "We have to disarm it! Cloud! Barret! Please!"

I shake my head. "I can't have you do that. No one gets in the way of Reno and the Turks."

She snarls at me, fists coming up. That spiky-haired blond ex-SOLDIER and the beefy black freak with a machine gun in place of his right arm rush me too.

I grin bigger. This fight looks like a challenge—my day just keeps getting better and better. Shot of adrenalin, a nice victory and then boom goes the dynamite with me safely away on the chopper.

That's the plan, anyway. But what becomes clear after a short few moments is that these circus rejects know their shit. SOLDIER boy is fucking brutal. They have kick-ass materia. My EMR and Pyramid attacks don't do shit. They're loaded down with potions, too.

They're fast. I'm a fucking wreck in no time flat, hovering on the edge of consciousness, panting, bloody, bruised, funny clicking in my left ear. I've got to beat a strategic retreat. It ain't fair, three on one. My mission's done anyway.

"It's time," I say with a nonchalance I don't feel, and take a running leap off the platform down to the helicopter below.

I hiss in pain as my ankles absorb the impact, dropping into a crouch next to the Ancient. She's huddled in on herself, kneeling. Tseng's on my other side. He waves me into the cabin.

I clamber into the co-pilot's seat with a nod to Rude. He looks over my bruised and injured form without a word. I'm too winded to say much either, just slap on my headset, fasten straps and lean back into the seat with a long groan.

I manage to hang on long enough to see the pretty lights, hear the unprecedented deafening roar of metal and masonry, concrete and glass smashing down to obliterate an entire sector of Midgar. Plumes of smoke erupt, chased by blossoming fireballs.

It's the biggest bang I've ever seen. I made it happen. Weak as a kitten at the moment, but still powerful as a god. I smile weakly and slump unconscious in my straps.

* * *

Crumpled form at the base of the staircase.

Dead Rat.

* * *

I look back across the promenade at the ruin of Sector Six, then swivel and survey my handiwork again. Sephiroth over there, Reno over here.

My skin crawls with slow, hollow horror. Sephiroth was a monster who wanted to kill everyone on the planet, who destroyed almost all of Midgar. I was a Turk doing my job and only destroyed one Sector. Down here under stone and metal, we had the same impact. That dead little girl over there is just as dead by my hand, and she hadn't had the warning that went out when Meteor's impact was imminent and Reeve evacuated the city.

My cigarette, forgotten, ashes to my lips and burns them. I spit, cursing, my eyes still full of my surroundings.

"Partner?" says Rude, behind me.

"Yeah?" I say without turning.

"You okay?" he says.

I just stand there, looking. There are a lot of children right here. Must've been a school. Or an orphanage. Or maybe an apartment building overcrowded as the one I'd grown up in.

I'm not a fan of kids. They're my least favorite size of person and too dumb and weak to defend themselves. But I still don't wanna be seeing this. Some of them are just too small to lie like that, inside out, forgotten, decomposing.

Rude places a gloved hand on my shoulder and I tense. "We've got work to do, c'mon."

"…Yeah…" I turn away. The rest of the day, stronger even than all the cigarettes I can chain-smoke, I smell the stench of the multitudes of abandoned corpses I made with the press of a button.

* * *

End of the world.

* * *

Help ain't coming. No matter how loud I howl.

Mom's lying still on the floor where he threw her when she said, "Of course he's crying, motherfucker, he's _three_!" I can sorta see her purple-and-brown-blotched face even though one of my eyes feels like a baseball is stuck in it and won't open, and blood's dripping past my other eye.

Today I found out that if I hit back, he hits harder. Yelling that it's my fault and look what I made him do.

The bottle-strewn floor is dirty, made more so with my blood. Tastes like metal and angry failure.

I ain't gonna live to get big enough to get him back for this. Buzzing fills my head. The room swims. Something cracked in my chest when he kicked me and it hurts so bad when I breathe.

Can't seem to stop screaming. Even though help ain't coming.

* * *

Powerful as a god.

* * *

Him or me.

I knew it'd happen sometime when I wasn't fast enough, or there were more of them than me. I'd been stealing in their territory for weeks. They'd seen me, and I'd run from their yells and nasty threats. I'm getting phenomenal at jumping and scrambling up things. After ditching them I tend to strut home whistling, dreaming of getting quicker and more cunning until I'm a redheaded blur.

It occurs to me, cornered at the end of this steep alley between slick walls, gang members armed with switchblades and nail bats looking down from fire escapes, that if I'd swallowed my pride and worn a hat over my telltale hair maybe they wouldn't have spotted me. Too late now. Anyway this day had to come.

Their leader is the biggest, nastiest black-eyed dark-skinned tattooed scarred punk in all Sectors Four and Five combined. His fists are like falling flaming rubble, crushing me to the street. He's gonna fucking kill me. And here I thought it was always going to be my old man that did me in.

I'm thinking the reason this kid didn't shiv me right away was 'cause he's enjoying himself. The other brats sure are, laughing and cheering and uncaring who hears. I'm curled in on myself. God almighty, it hurts, but I'm waiting for my moment. For the break when he thinks he's won and I'm unconscious.

Here it is. He steps back to admire his handiwork and I lunge out of my crouch.

I've been waiting.

I've been watching.

I've been practicing on smaller dopes, and then dopes my size and even some isolated big dumbasses. Nobody this guy's size. He looks like he's got melons for shoulders and a brand-new mattress made of steel for a chest, legs like clubs. But I'm quicker. And I have a knife none of them have seen yet.

Punch, dig, goddamn but he's harder to cut through than even tough gamy meat from the Wutain place near my home. My hand gets slick from the geyser of blood I've tapped. I grip harder, pushing. He's yelling in my ear and thrashing. I've got him rammed up against the wall and he's got nowhere to go except further onto my blade.

He manages to bear me to the ground, crushing me under him. I writhe. He's not even bothering to grab me, just using that bulk of his to hold me down. Fortunately I'm so slippery now from all the blood I can wriggle out.

I stagger to my feet and turn around. All the noise is gone. I'm sticky with rank salty irony body fluids, aching everywhere, and I'm pretty sure my left arm is broken. The big guy lays there on the pavement, bleeding on newspapers, food wrappers, broken green and brown beer bottles, and condoms like rained-on snakeskins.

He ain't moving.

I lift my head, tensing, and glare with all the rage I have at the kids around me. Their eyes are just as mean and nasty as mine for all the same reasons. I notice who's the next-biggest, the rabid dog likely to now be top of the heap, and snarl as I leap at him. He scrambles back, unprepared. He throws his hand in the air with a bit of a spin to it, and the gang collects and retreats. I lunge after him, spitting, and yell again.

_Make 'em think you're fucking insane_, I thought. _Make 'em think you'll bite off bits of their faces, headbutt their nuts, hamstring their pets._

Their echoing footfalls fade. I should go too. I stop at the alley mouth and twist to look over my shoulder.

He's still right there where he fell. Not so much as a twitch. I don't know the bastard's name. He's just 'the Rat,' like I'm just 'Red.' Although now, my name is probably 'Dead.'

Just like him.

I stash my knife and take to my heels. I know better'n to go home like this. Mom would freak, Dad would scream, and I ain't in the mood for their shit anyway. There's a fountain in Sector Five, filthy as all hell, really smelly water that hasn't moved in a month, but I need the blood off me. My skin feels like it's burning in all the red I usually love so much.

Blood's proof I'm human. Proof I'm still alive, if my eyes are open to see it. Proof I won the game again, one more day survived. Proof I still feel. Proof I'm fighting that crushing weight over me of the goddamn motherfucking Plate, my suffering and poverty propping up the rich bitches of Midgar Above. We're the carrion, the shadow, the sewers, hidden-in-the-basement. The fuel to drive their decadent lives.

Someday I wanna blow all this shit up. I wanna see this city in ruin, my cage broken and twisted, a mass grave of all these fucking days like specially designed hells.

The water smells worse than I remember, brown, frothed with cigarette butts. I feel crunching under my boots and move carefully so nothing gets in where the soles are coming off. Don't wanna take my chances that there might be needles or glass down there. I take real good care of my feet and legs. They keep me alive more'n any other part of me.

If I can succeed in retreating, I win the game for another day of life. Some prize, huh? Only one worth having, down here.

I keep seeing the Rat collapsed in the street, no matter how I shake my head. He won't fuck off. My head spins.

With no warning suddenly my body hunches over and I start throwing up. I grab on to the concrete basin in the middle of the fountain to keep from collapsing to my knees. Greasy leftover chips that were my stolen breakfast float, floury clouds of white in the water.

Doesn't make it much dirtier, but something about bathing in the contents of my stomach revolts me even more than the piss and filth I know to be in there. I wade over to the side, hoist myself out and land on my back on the pavement, breath rushing out of me.

Stinking and soaked, trembling from the force of my vomiting, I stare up at the underside of the Plate.

I learned how to kill a man today. I should feel triumphant. I should feel powerful, cock of the walk. It was him or me, and I was victorious. Those fuckers will think twice before messing with me next time.

I hate that I'm thinking again what it must feel like to breathe the open air, up above, to not have to watch your back every moment, to actually pay for shit rather than deal with the hassle of a getaway, and sleep at night. To have my own digs, my own shower, where it doesn't fucking matter if I stroll in painted head-to-toe in blood.

I hate it, but I can't help it. I want a chance to be something other than this. Just one fucking chance to stand in the burning sun and feel that intense, fresh warmth. To smell a breeze that don't stink of urine and stagnant water and rot and mildew and machine oil. To touch somebody without hitting them. To forget all this is down here in the darkness. To leave it all below.

Never gonna happen. I'm seven years old, and I ain't gonna live to see eight.

* * *

Stench of decomposing bodies.

"_EAAAAAH_!"

I can't.

* * *

Shiny, clean shoes. Black mirrors of footwear, the cleanest thing by far in this hellhole. I glare up at the bald Turk standing over me with his arms folded, shades in shadow.

"Just let me die already," I say. "Fuck."

His deep voice rumbles. "Can't do that, partner. You've got a job to do."

"I was suspended, motherfucker. You know that," I say. "It's your own damn fault for ditching me."

"That's not what I'm talking about," he says.

I peer at him, seething.

"You're not a quitter. You're Reno. You were Reno before you were a Turk. Nobody's gonna do that for you, so get up and get yourself out of this shithole."

"Fuck you, dude."

"I'm not going to let you go quietly."

I ignore him.

"…I'll sing."

I groan. "Fuck, no."

"Then get up, ass."

"Easy for you to say."

"Not interested in your whining and excuses." He takes a deep breath and starts to sing. The man is so off-key it hurts all over my body.

"I… _hate_… you!" I snarl, pushing the floor away from me, inch by inch.

He grins, laying off the murdering of whatever tune he had in mind. "Anger means you're alive."

My head whips up involuntarily. "You son of a bitch! How dare you!" I lunge at him, fury flooding me. I collapse in a whimpering ball of suck. He's still out of reach, smirking at me.

"…Well, that was pathetic," he says dryly. "You wanna actually try, this time?"

I growl and crawl toward him. "You are gonna be so fucking sorry, man."

"Can't wait." He cracked his knuckles inside his squeaking leather gloves. Inch by painful inch, I drag myself toward him, as he slowly shuffles backward toward the door.

I know what he's doing, and I loathe him for it, but I crawl anyway. The fucker's right. Anger _does_ mean I'm alive.

And I'm so angry at him I can't see straight, 'cause I know he isn't really there.

* * *

5 from 59.

* * *

Smash. Jar. Screeching, grinding, teeth-hurting metal noises.

No pain. No top of my skull smashing down through my body to the soles of my feet.

I'm… saved?

Open eyes. Twisted remains of Protogolems wrenched into the cables, stopping the elevator a meter down from the ceiling.

"Oh, so it's thanks to you guys?"

Lightheaded. Not dead. I almost laugh, sick inside.

"They looked like dangerous guys," says Rude, peering up through the hatch from the floor of the elevator death car.

"Rude?!"

"If those guys hadn't been up there to get tangled in the cables, you would have been flatter than a pancake right now."

"I was about to die, and you were in the damn elevator the entire time?"

"I guess so."

"Then why didn't you stop the damn car? Were you trying to get me killed?"

Silence.

"I'm asking you a question!"

"The car wouldn't respond. I tried every button, but nothing worked."

"System malfunction, huh…? So… how did you stop it?"

"I cut all the wires."

"How destructive of you." Short laugh. Still shaken. "But I guess that's okay. I… don't think I wanna go down inside the car though."

"You scared?"

"Bad for my reputation, I know."

"You don't have to worry. This car won't move anymore." Irritating grin behind his shades.

"Are you _enjoying_ yourself or something?"

"Well. That's your motto, isn't it? 'You should have fun while getting your job done'?"

"Man, you really are off your rocker today."

"More importantly, Reno, we've got our next assignment."

"Fucking hell, being a gopher is rough."

"It's a flashy job, though. I'm sure you'll love it."

* * *

End of the world.

* * *

Kicking Rude's gunmetal-grey bathroom cubicle door down, him catching it and kicking it back.

"What the hell?!"

"My last present to my best partner."

"A door?"

"A thrill. The sort of thing you like."

"…Not enough." He gets out of his cubicle.

"Then why don't we take a look outside? I bet it's exciting."

"It's a festival."

Wind's picking up, growing stronger around the Lifestream. Beams of light bundled together, whipping past before our dazzled eyes.

Blood beats in me, hot and alive. I feel breathless and weightless in the face of my unexpected survival. "Whoa! That was the Lifestream, wasn't it?"

"Reno."

"What?"

"This is the best."

* * *

I'm dimly aware somebody's hassling me.

* * *

"Don't you _touch_ him!" Her voice, so angry, returns to me from the past, a flare in my chest.

The only person since my mom to defend me when it wasn't her job to do so. Even with mom, maybe she thought it was her job.

Yeah, Schala was after those silver-haired freaks, but I remember how she sounded when she snapped out those four words.

Defending her territory.

I belonged to her, even then, before she kissed me and made herself mine. And it felt so damn good.

* * *

I snarl and lash out a fist at whoever's bugging me, collapsing to my knees, which puts me at the right height to go for the crotch. My irritants evaporate back into Edge's shadows.

"You're so damn slow, partner," murmurs Rude.

I don't even have the energy to curse him out. As nasty as this gutter is where I've landed, it looks like I'm gonna be there for the remainder of my life.

"_Lyrant_…"

I groan, curling into a little ball, away from the shame that burns in me at the sound of her voice.

"Don't be such a pussy, Reno," she whispers, near my ear.

_You bitch_, I think, aching so bad I couldn't breathe.

"I didn't save your life so you could throw it away like this," she says. "Imagine if it was me, down there, and you dead. You'd be fucking livid, wouldn't you?"

_Fuck you. You don't know shit._

"Yeah, I do. If I'd given up when my husband died, I never would have lived to meet you," she says.

_Maybe that would have been better._ I grind my teeth, wincing.

"You really think that? You wish we'd never met?"

"He doesn't," Rude says. "He's just a coward."

"No, he isn't," she says.

"Look at him. Running away from life," he says.

"Rude, this isn't easy," she says. "This is why he holds everyone at arm's length. Losing someone hurts like a bitch."

_My hallucinations are arguing over me like I'm not even here_, I think, too weary and hopeless to be amused.

"You sucked it up," he says. "He can too."

"Watch it, Gorun, or I'll ram those sunglasses where the sun doesn't shine. I beat Tifa, I beat Reno, I can fuck you up too."

At this I do smile, even though it's a painful one. My hallucination of my dead girlfriend is so badass.

"Don't coddle him," he says. "Help ain't comin'. He needs to get up before a street-cleaner runs him over."

"Lyrant? I need you to get up, okay? For me?"

Despair wriggles inside me. _I can't. I can't. I just can't._

Blue.

"You gotta beat it, my friend," he says. "You being here just reminds him of why he thinks life ain't worth living."

She sighs. "You're probably right."

I panic. I lift my head, and now I'm alone with a nearly-invisible illusion of Rude, standing unhelpfully over me.

"You _MOTHERFUCKER_!" I gasp.

He says nothing. Cursing, spitting, bereaved all over again, I crawl out of the gutter. Saved again by my goddamn anger.

* * *

**NOTES**: Parts from 'Before Crisis: Special Episode of Reno' combined (with heartfelt thanks) from LicoriceAllsorts' amazing fic 'Death is Part of the Process' (read it, she's amazing!), thelifestream dot net's extended summary, and Kawree's translation. Parts from 'On the Way to a Smile: Case of Shinra' courtesy of thelifestream dot net's translation. Muchos gracias to all for their amazing work.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Cloud_**

"…Rude," came the bald Turk's voice over my PHS.

"Yeah, it's Cloud," I said. Wind ruffled through my hair. I squinted through shades at Da Chao's bulk as the sky over Wutai began to accrue early evening colors. "Reno's not answering his phone, is he okay?"

Silence. Lots of heavy silence. I waited, refraining from drawing conclusions. I admired the view from the plaza at the base of the Pagoda. If I'd cared to work my way up to the top I probably could have seen the sunset over the ocean, but I didn't really care to fight my way up and there's no other way to get to the highest point in the village.

I also could have climbed the mountain. At that point I was starving, though. I hadn't eaten all day and Yuffie had persuaded me she could cook traditional Wutain cuisine.

"I don't know," Rude finally said, and hung up.

I stared at the phone in surprise, all thoughts suddenly wiped from my brain.

* * *

"…Cloud. _Cloud_!"

I jolted, chin in my hand, elbow on my knee. I looked over at Yuffie. She'd put on a kimono, possibly to try to make up for dinner, which was lightly burnt and very greasy.

"Hmm?" I said.

She pointed at my other hand. I glanced down. Glossy red chopsticks, clenched in a deathgrip between my fingers, clattered spastically on the table. _Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap…_

I laid the sticks down. "…Sorry."

"What's bugging you?" she said, irritated. "You haven't said two words to me. Have you even been _listening_ to me?"

"No," I said.

She huffed. "This is the thanks I get, huh?! I never cook, I'll have you know."

I smiled. I couldn't help it.

"Shut _up_!" she yelled, lunging at me. I laughed, rearing away, but she came back holding my Enemy Away triumphantly aloft. "_Ha_!"

"I know where you sleep," I said conversationally, reaching for the steamed wild rice.

"With one eye open! Try anything and you're toast, chocobo-breath," she said, and the purple orb vanished in the sleeves of her robe.

I didn't reply, just doled out more peas and chicken. Eating was a good mechanical, brainless activity to give me an excuse to zone out and not respond to her.

She kicked me under the low table a minute later. "Ass! I asked you a question!"

I swallowed hastily and nearly choked. She rolled her eyes and passed me a glass of clear liquid. It turned out to be sake. I coughed harder.

"Some hero of the world," she said. "Almost done in by a dead chicken!"

Eyes streaming, I sucked down air. "Oh, is that what that was. Hard to tell." I gave her an irritating grin.

"Oh, fuck you, Cloud. You've been hanging around that redheaded asshole too much!"

I sobered instantly. Despite her natural aura of Yuffie-absorption she seemed to notice.

"Doesn't he drive you crazy? How do you stand him? He's an even bigger tool than he was _before_ she died. Just put him out of his misery, already."

My jaw clenched. I felt too angry to speak. I rose up from my cushion and padded across the room and out the door.

"Hey! _Heyyy_! Wait!" She chased after me. I ignored her, dodged the ridiculous herd of cats, and strode out the front door. I didn't even stop to grab my shoes. She tried to put hers on hopping after me.

"Stop, wouldya? Jeez, Cloud! You're such a pain in the ass!" she said.

She caught up with me when I stopped on the bridge over the river, leaning on the rail under fading twilight colors.

"Since when did you start caring about Reno, huh?" she said, leaning on the rail beside me.

I remembered.

_Schala answered the door, eyes and shoulders slumped. She smelled of plum wine. For the first and only time she didn't light up at the sight of me. She gestured for me to enter with the bottle she still held._

_"I thought you might be bored," I said hesitantly, entering the sparse Edge flat she and Reno shared. The room was dominated by that dojo that was such a smash hit at the Turk-heavy AVALANCHE-heavy housewarming. Quite a few rivalries had been rehashed that night. The hostess had healed us all and our host's best friend made us all fruity frosty Coastan cocktails._

_Schala shut the door and walked into the kitchen, where she took down a glass from a cabinet._

_"None for me, thanks," I said, frowning._

_She shrugged and put the glass away, then took a long swig out of the bottle she held._

_"You wanna talk?" I said._

_She hoisted herself up on the counter, nearly pitching to the floor. I scrambled forward to catch her. She held a hand out to stop me, still holding the wine, and settled herself on the counter. Her eyes fixed on mine._

_"He never talks about work, but I can tell when he's about to go on a dangerous mission," she said. "Not as often as he used to, from what I hear of what the Turks used to be like, but if I had my way…" She shook her head and drank more, tipping her head back. "If I had my way, Cloud, I'd be with him right now. I can't stand the thought of him in danger out there somewhere. You know what it's like. As soon as they're out of your sight you don't know what might happen. The world is dangerous enough without a job like his."_

_I leaned against the counter behind me and nodded, not breaking her gaze. She drank more. She looked down at the bottle, fingers fiddling with a ring of metal around the neck. She snapped it off and curled it up like an invertebrate in her fingers._

_"I wish I could always keep him safe. I never want him hurt," she said, even quieter. "When we came after those Sephiroth clones and you and I split up… I found two of those fuckers beating the shit out of Reno and Rude." She shut her eyes with a sigh. "Never been so furious in my entire life. I wanted to tear them to pieces. It's not like when he and I fight. I'm not going to kill him."_

_"You and he fight?" I said, bewildered._

_She pulled her feet up onto the counter, gathering her knees to her chest, and nodded sadly, taking another sip. "He's teaching me self-defense."_

That explains the dojo_, I thought._

_She looked up at me. "Nobody's ever done that for me before. Not my teachers, not my bodyguards, nobody. Nobody made me feel I was worth fighting for until him. It's hard for him to teach me. So hard. He thinks I don't know. He's so scared he's going to become a sadistic monster like his father. But he's more scared that I might get hurt if I don't know how to fight."_

_She put her chin on her knees and stared at me. "I love him so much it terrifies me. Anything could happen to him. Or could be happening, right now. And there's not a god damned thing I can do about it. I would kill for this man, and I've never killed before. But I can't. I can't be there. Even if I somehow managed to become a Turk I wouldn't be assigned with him. And even if he wasn't a Turk he could get hit by a truck crossing the street." She drank. "I don't want to feel this. I don't want to feel anything. And I know this is why he didn't want me to know he was doing something dangerous."_

_I reached out and took the bottle from her unresisting hand, heart in my throat. Her face crumpled. I put my arms around her and she clung to me with fierceness and strength I didn't expect._

_"I need to sleep," she whispered against my chest._

_"I can tuck you in," I said. "Just like old times, remember? I'll even tell you a bedtime story."_

_She nodded and started to slide off the counter. She didn't feel steady._

_"Hold on," I said, and hoisted her in my arms. I carried her mostly-limp body into the bedroom and laid her out on the bed._

_She writhed around and I helped peel back the covers so she could get under them. She plucked at the sheets, and held up something I couldn't see. I clicked on the bedroom light._

_Though it was filament-thin, the shocking redness of the strand she held told me what it was. She stared at it with puppy-dog eyes._

_"Tell me he'll be okay," she whispered._

_"He can take care of himself," I said. "He's a Turk, Schala. The world has more to fear from him than he does from the world."_

_"Just 'cause he's survived this long doesn't mean he always will," she said._

_I took her hand in mine. "He'll come back to you. He'll always come back."_

_She laid her head on the pillow, still looking downcast._

_"If he's outmatched he knows when to run away. Reno's a survivor. I'll tell you the story about Reno's victorious retreat from me and Aerith and Tifa, how does that sound?" I said._

_She smiled at last, weakly, and nodded as her eyes closed. I felt enormous relief at being able to bring a smile out in the face of her fear I knew all too well. I knew rationally that whatever Reno was up to he'd be fine, but I also knew that the kind of terror she was feeling latched onto and magnified that tiny real chance of something awful happening. It's hard to tell anything to that heart-stopping fear, born of watching someone you love die unexpectedly._

_By the time I finished the brief tale she was asleep. I knew that was the best thing. In the morning he'd call her, or she'd call him, and this night would be nothing more than a headache fading into darkness for her. I shut off the lights as I left._

_Whether or not she remembered in the morning, I always would._

I inhaled deeply and sighed.

"I don't get it," said Yuffie. "He's so fucking full of himself. How come Schala didn't see right through him?"

"She did," I said.

"Huh?" said Yuffie.

"You know what an asshole I am and you put up with me."

"Well, yeah, duh!" She swatted my arm. "You beat Sephiroth and saved the world. Twice."

I arched an eyebrow, looking over at her. "Is that why?"

She squirmed, glaring at the water. "Well… no."

I nodded. "There's more to both of us than meets the eye. Reno, too."

"There'd have to be, wouldn't there?"

"I have to go." I straightened.

"Hey, no, come on. I'll stop ragging on Reno, I promise."

I shook my head. "I have to get back to Edge. Thanks for dinner." I gave her a brief hug before heading back to her house to fetch my shoes.

"Hey, don't be a stranger!" she said, trotting beside me. "And answer your phone, for fuck's sake!"

* * *

Most people are smart enough to answer the polite yet firm questions of someone with several enormous blades holstered on his back. Sometimes, looking for Reno, the people I met were too high to realize that they weren't being clever when they tried to avoid my questions in what they probably thought of as cunning ways.

That night was a parade of twitchy, unhelpful, violent junkies. Nobody knew where he was. Nobody had seen him in weeks. It was suggested that he'd moved away, which told me he was probably in trouble that they thought was catching.

I collected dead ends and apologized in my head to a dead woman. Exhausted and just before dawn, I stopped back by his apartment as a last resort. The lift wasn't working, so I popped open the door to the stairway.

Reno lay slumped on the first six steps.

I dropped to my knees beside him, glad I'd thought to pack Cure and Heal materia. He was breathing but unconscious, a skeleton draped in skin and vomit-covered clothing, sunken pale face bathed in sweat. In the two weeks since I'd last seen him he had turned from a skinny ball of rage and drugs and lust into a razor-thin shadow of a person.

His eyes slitted open as I healed him. I met his gaze.

"Don't take me to a fucking hospital," he mumbled. "Worst is over."

I nodded. I'd done all I could with magic. I slipped my arms under him and carried his alarmingly light weight up six flights of stairs. He didn't bother to try to hang on. He managed to fish out his front door key for me. I carried him to the bed, like I'd carried her that day—_I do a lot of carrying_, I thought—and laid him on it.

"I don't wanna sleep," he muttered, shifting around, digging into his pocket. I inhaled sharply as he pulled out a bag of red dust. Before I could say anything he handed it over. "Don't give this back to me no matter what I fucking say. The rest is under the fridge. Take it and get out." He passed out.

I found the bag taped to the underside of said appliance and flushed its contents down the toilet. I texted Tifa so as not to wake her up, but she replied right away. I surveyed the interior of the fridge, winced, and messaged her back as I threw out everything. Then I poured all the alcohol down the sink, stripped Reno and carefully bathed him.

He looked even worse with his clothes off. He had a filthy bandage around a weeping round scar on his leg that looked like it was getting infected and needed an extra dose of Cure to ease. Livid scars and bruises covered him. A fresh puncture wound nestled in the crook of his right elbow alarmed me even more.

The door buzzer went while I was drying the lanky awkward collection of sticklike limbs and tangled bright red hair. He didn't rouse even at this. I rolled him back into bed as the buzzer sounded again and went to let Tifa in.

"The elevator's broken," she said, sweaty and out of breath. I relieved her of brown paper bags and carried them into the kitchen. She set my overnight bag on a stool.

"Where are the kids?" I said.

"Rude's with them," she said. "Where's Reno?"

"Bedroom," I said. "He's probably gonna be unconscious for a few days."

"Oh, my Holy. Don't you think he should be in a hospital?" she said.

"Not unless he gets very sick."

"You know, there are detox programs…"

I gave her a long look as I reopened the fridge to pile in the groceries she'd brought. "You want to subject a hospital staff to a violent Turk in drug withdrawal? They'd have to put him in lockup. You know she wouldn't want that."

"Is that… why you're doing this?"

"It's the least I can do." I shut the fridge and turned back to her. "Thanks for coming."

She nodded, her brows pinched. "…Call me if you need anything, okay?"

I sighed. "I'm… sorry I haven't been around much lately. Will you apologize to Denzel and Marlene?"

"Of course. You know, they're pretty smart kids. They understand. …So do I."

I filled a glass with water and offer it to her, and took a second for myself. "Rude's a good man."

She flushed, but didn't look away. "Yes. He is."

"I think he's had enough of Reno for a while."

"Cloud…"

"It's okay. If it gets really bad, I will take him to the hospital."

She chewed on her lip. "Are you sure you're the right person to do this? He hates your guts."

"I know. But he respects me. He might actually listen to me."

She rounded the island. I set down my glass to give her a hug and sigh into her hair.

"Don't wait too long to ask for help this time," she murmured, and leaned up to kiss my cheek. "I care about him too."

I returned her sad smile. "Thanks."

Once she was gone I shoved the couch in front of the door, scraping up the wood floor. I didn't really care. I needed to sack out, and be sure that if he woke up he wouldn't get out.

**_Reno_**

Thoughts and feelings like fast and frantic jagged lightning bolts stabbed out of me. Seeking relief. Diamond-sharp moments between endless seas of aching agony where I felt either everything or nothing and cried out, a shell of sweaty stinking covers smothering me.

* * *

I couldn't get a reaction out of the fucker. He sat there with his magazines, just looking at me as I screamed at him. Mild Mako-blue eyes.

"You sick bastard, lording it over me! Boy, you must feel like hot shit today. Come to stare at Reno the freak. I am NOT weaker than you! …Okay, so maybe I am! WHY DON'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?! Just gloating? Do I AMUSE you, fuckwad? Fuck you! C'mon, c'mon, you've gotta still have that dust. You're LYING! There's no way you flushed that much valuable shit! You wanted it for yourself. You think you're better than me? Yeah, that must be it. I would, if I were you! I'd eat this shit up with a spoon! Lord it over your spiky ass. Look at our fallen hero, brought so low by a fuckin' woman. Goddamn it, Strife! Just let me out of here! Let me the FUCK out! What gives you the goddamn RIGHT? Who do you think you are? Sephiroth or some shit? …You loved her, didn't you? ADMIT IT! I saw the way you looked at her in that church. I know you wanted her. …But no way in hell did you love her more'n me! You don't have the right to grieve her like I do. She's mine, asshole! Now, forever, always. Shit, please, just let me out of here. Fucking Sephiroth clone. Fucking genetic experiment gone wrong piece of shit pain in the ass son of a bitch bastard. GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY! Oh, you wanna fight? I'll give you a fucking FIGHT, hell…

"I fucking hate you, you know that? Tifa's lucky you ain't laid her yet. You don't deserve a fine piece of ass like that. Your mother was a goddamn whore! Aerith probably died with all your STDs and carrying your bastard half-Sephiroth-clone kid. Bet you fucked Sephiroth, too, and all those silver-haired genetic rejects. And Hojo. And Jenova. And those kids you live with, you little pervert. Motherfucker! Sick bastard! How dare you even hope a girl like Schala could ever even look at you without throwing up in her mouth? You make me sick, get outta my sight! FUUUUUUCK…

"Please, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, you heartless bastard! You gotta let me out, fuck! I'm dying. You're killing me. Might as well decapitate me with that stupid-ass sword. C'mon, I didn't mean all that shit I said earlier! C'mon, Cloud, be a pal. C'mon, do it for Schala. She wouldn't want you to hurt me like this. It hurts so bad, man. Please. Please. Please please please. Pissing shit, _please_…

"Oh, god, just DIE IN A FIRE you fucking WASTE OF SPACE! I hate you SO FUCKING MUCH! Stupid fucking hairdo! Tiny little penis! Couldn't save your girlfriend's life, is that my fault? Your fucking friend, too, what was his name? That SOLDIER asshole. You useless weak little vegetable! SOLDIER reject! You ain't half the man I am. Fucking cuts you up inside, don't it? Sephiroth puppet! Heartless empty little shit! Pathetic. Worthless. Useless. Impotent. No wonder you ain't got a girlfriend. You're the most insufferable pain in the ass I've ever met! Shinra could scrape its boots on you and get dirty…

"Please, Cloud. C'mon, you know me. I ain't like this. I don't hate you. I'm just an ordinary guy, like you. I've got needs. You don't know how much this hurts. I ain't like you, I need this shit to go on, okay? I'm gonna die. Help me out here, buddy. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. I'm begging you. Look at me, I'm on my fucking knees. Reno of the Turks. You know it's gotta be bad if I'm kneeling down to the likes of you. For the love of Holy, just stop the pain! Who the hell do you think you are, to treat me like this? SHIT, FUCK, MAN! RRRRR! Just a little. Just a bump. It ain't gonna be like before, I promise. I've got a plan. Just a pinch of dust to make it easier to get through this part. I know what I said before, but I wasn't thinking. I was on a shit-ton of drugs, okay? I didn't mean it! C'mon, Cloud, you gotta help me out. I'm out of pain pills and I've been shot in the leg. It hurts so bad! NO I don't need more Cure! It doesn't fucking help! The fucking fight's gone out of me. That red shit puts it back. Right where it's supposed to go. No, I am not dealing with it well! Give me a fucking break!

"You are just LOVING this, aren't you? You always thought I was weak. Well, I'm NOT weak! Not like you! You think you're hot shit but you're not. I know your secret. I know the truth! You're a selfish, self-absorbed, self-righteous fuck! You know I'm right. That's why you're not saying anything. 'Cause I'm fucking right. Well, asshole? Got anything to say for yourself, huh? Yeah, that's what I thought!

"Goddamn, what is your PROBLEM?! I didn't ask you to be here! I didn't want you here! In fact I distinctly remember telling you to beat it, so get the fuck out of here, already! I'm not your friend, I'm not your entertainment, I'm not interested in your high-handed savior act and I don't fucking NEED to be saved, thank you so fucking much. I'm doing just fucking fine. What the hell do you care anyway? I know why you're here. You like feeling better than me. Well, you're not! And she knew it! That's why she picked me and not you! That's it, isn't it? It's fucking killing you that she wanted me and not you. You could never have her. And goddamn, did you ever want her. She was the best thing you ever saw, wasn't she? Wasn't she? Even better than Aerith. 'Cause what did Aerith do? It was the Lifestream that saved us, not Holy. And Schala brought the Lifestream to save the world again. You beat Sephiroth but he keeps coming back. She cured Geostigma and that shit is fucking gone. And she… she…"

I found myself sitting on the floor in front of my couch, which he had hauled in front of the front door. I curled over my legs, panting softly, wracked with pain and exhaustion. I had no more words to throw at him. I leaned over, a very slow collapse onto the wood floor.

I thrashed when he picked me up. He grabbed my hair firmly.

"Stop," he murmured, speaking at last.

I glared murderously at him as he carried my carcass into the bedroom and tossed me back in bed. I stank with sweat, shivered, convulsed. I looked up at him in apprehension as he leaned over.

_Oh, god, don't fucking kiss me!_ I thought with a shudder.

He pulled the sheets back over me. His eyes flicked at mine, then away. He didn't say anything more, just turned and walked out of the room. I watched him go, confused, stifling moans of profound agony.

"What the fuck do you WANT from me?!" I screamed in a last furious passion. I shut my eyes, spent.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Vincent_**

I heard gunshots even over the powerful roar of the night tide in Costa del Sol. I put on speed, just annoyed and wearied enough to pull out my tri-barrel gun and lay down covering fire, showing my hand. I'd come too far to start over again, and people willing to talk were increasingly hard to come by.

Only scurrying shadows and shapes displayed where my targets scattered before my attack. I didn't pursue. I knelt in the bloody sand by a woman desperately trying to push intestine in through a gaping black-red hole under her ribs.

Her wide eyes rolled toward me. I flicked a potion vial out of a pocket in my cape and unstoppered it. She had trouble swallowing, and I realized she was trying desperately to talk.

"In the basement…" she gasped. "In the basement… of the mansion… it's trying to escape… more powerful than they realize… terrible secret… experiment… stronger every day." Her hands flexed, fingers starbursting open and clenching into fists spastically. Her pleading eyes could not fix on mine.

"Kill it… before… it kills us…" Her jerking ceased.

I holstered my gun and flitted off into the night, plucking my PHS out of its specially-sewn pocket. The woman's dying wish seemed an entirely reasonable one. I called Tseng to help me grant it.

**_Cloud_**

A series of thuds and curses heralded Reno's return to consciousness. I'd periodically checked for a pulse over the last fifty hours, when he wasn't snoring like quarry machinery.

He staggered out of the bedroom, clutching his red comforter around him like a huge puffy cape, squinting hard in late afternoon light. His hair tangled around and over his face in a garish rat's nest. He leaned against the doorframe, frowned at me, then shuffled into the kitchen.

I marked my place in the book I was reading and set it on top of a pile beside the couch. Tifa had graciously brought them for me to fill hours of silent waiting while his body made up for months of substituting chemicals for sleep.

Reno opened the fridge and leaned on it. After several long moments his head vanished down behind the kitchen counter island. I strolled over barefoot and leaned on it. He came into view seated crosslegged on linoleum in front of the open door, fridge fan blowing cool air out over his gangly form as he pulled food right into his mouth from the shelves. He almost drained a bottle of orange juice in one gulp.

He didn't look up or speak, just ate. I returned to the couch, changing position to recline on a pillow mountain built against the armrest.

In a rough, weak voice, he called, "What the fuck are you still doing here?"

"Reading," I said.

"Go read somewhere else," he said.

I ignored this.

"This food yours?" he said.

"No. Yours," I said.

"Why?"

"You're a fucking toast rack. Food isn't optional, Reno."

"…Did you just say 'fuck'?"

I didn't reply. He shut up then.

Much later, he rose up with a groan and kicked the fridge door shut. He shuffled around the near end of the counter. I looked up as he approached the couch, staring at me with a scowl.

"What's your deal? Why are you here?" he snapped.

I shrugged, book propped on my chest. "Why not?"

"What the hell are you reading?"

"'Society of Hate,'" I said.

He leaned back against the counter. "You still haven't answered my question. Why. Are. You. Here?"

I set the book aside and sat up. "She loved you. And I cared about her. She never wanted to see you hurt. Believe it or not, I don't either. I think her love made you a better person. I actually started liking you, and I always thought you were just an arrogant son of a bitch who never took anything seriously."

He wobbled, then crouched down and sat on the floor, chin in his hand. He sighed. "Fucking fooled you too, huh? Just like her. Well, now you're seeing the real deal." He flicked his eyes up at me. "You should have let me die. If I'd gone back to the Lifestream, I'd be with her now."

"I didn't save your life. You're too tough to kill, despite your best efforts. …And mine," I admitted.

He shook his head. "I deserve to die. Everyone knows that. Even my own partner can't stand me anymore."

"He can't stand to watch you kill yourself. That's different. Trust me, no one wanted to watch me self-destruct when Aerith died. Even Tifa got fed up with it. It sucks when you know no one wants you around and there's nothing you can do to change that without pretending to be something you're not. Or having them pretend they don't care."

"It's no one's fucking business _what_ I do to myself. You all need to fuck off and leave me alone."

"Too bad. People care about you, apparently more than you do."

He lifted his head, frowning in alarm. "…God, that's true, isn't it?" He shivered, looking at me. "That's seriously fucked up. No, really, Cloud—you care about me more than I do. What the hell, man?"

I laughed.

"Yeah, sick fucking joke, right? Just like me." He curled in on himself, hugging his knees.

"Grief doesn't make you a joke. Makes you human. Remember what you told me in Seventh Heaven after we fought the Sephiroth remnants? That you were never more aware of your humanity than when you were with her?"

**_Reno_**

I remembered, all right. That wasn't all I remembered.

_I stood at the picture window, my eyes flitting and stabbing at all the glittering nightlights of the city. The bedroom was otherwise dark._

_I heard her slither out of bed behind me, felt her approach my tense body. I twitched. She didn't touch me._

_My voice rang as sharp as the edge inside me that divided me from sleep: "When I lived in Healen, there was distance between me and this. A wall between me and the reality of what I helped destroy, and the people whose lives I helped ruin. The legacy of Shinra's disaster, our failure. I see it every goddamn day now, every night, every time I look out the window and see stupid people struggling to eke out desperate existence in the ruins of the colossal mistakes I was a part of." Heat and shame poured through me._

_"Takes a lot to get up every day and face possible recriminations, just to help rebuild," she said. "Why do you do it?"_

_"Because I'm _angry_!" I shouted, pounding my fist on the window._

_"Great!" she said. "Anger means you're alive! You're fighting off death for another day. It's inevitable, which pisses us off, so we flip it off one more day."_

_I ground my teeth, glaring at the fucking metropolis._

_Her voice softened. "Love, too. Love means we're alive. It cheats death, it says, well, if we're stuck with this mess and it's fleeting, we're gonna have fun—and you are by far the sexiest piece of fun around."_

_The heat inside me reached unbearable levels. I clung to the window frame. I wanted to turn around and punch the words out of that inexorable mouth of hers. I wanted to yell in despair. I wanted many, many things._

_When she touched my bare back every muscle in my body tensed. I shut my eyes and banged my head sharply against the glass. She slid her hands over my shoulderblades, fingers curling in at the edges. Her forehead and curly hair pressed to the middle of my back, breath tickling my skin._

_"God, you're hot when you're hurting. And it helps me feel okay to hurt too. Seeing you so beautiful in your pain makes me brave enough to be in pain right here with you. And not hide it away or ram it down."_

_My head tipped back and I screamed, emotions tearing out of me like hell-raised demons. I turned toward her. I couldn't bring myself to start a fight with her in my rage, too terrified of what that might make me, so I kissed her instead. She curled her arms around me. When I tried to peel off her clothes she pushed me back against the window. I opened my eyes and stared at her through a haze of hurt saltwater._

_"Just cry," she said, her own cheeks sheened. "Just fucking cry, Reno. Beat on the walls if it helps."_

_I howled in a mass of suck and emotion, hands in fists, and did as she suggested. I managed to avoid the cool glass at my back, striking the frame around me. My fingers buzzed and burst and bled. Her strikes rained down alongside mine, beating on our surroundings like trapped psycho birds. She sobbed with me._

_Every time she got close to hitting me I felt something sparking in me, so I leaned into her trajectory to take her punch in my chest. I yelled out at the ecstatic impact, stinging so sweetly. I wrenched her to me. She tried to shove me off again. I fought her. Fists, nails, teeth. We rolled on the floor. We fought mean and nasty and without rules. We tore at our own bodies, too, unable to find the boundaries between us._

_I ran out of fight. I cried like a little boy in her arms as she stroked me and cool healing green light enveloped me. She followed hands with lips. My eyes remained squeezed shut to keep out as much overwhelming reality as possible._

_"We survived," she whispered against my face, kissing my eyelids, my tattoos, my nose. "Life is a fight. No death again today—that's a win. And now I'm here with you… let's celebrate with sex and start again tomorrow."_

_I whimpered my agreement and reached up with shaking hands to guide her mouth to mine._

_"I love you. I love what you give me," she murmured as we joined. "We get up, go to work, make it better, win, fail, whatever, make a mess, live life, come home, more wild sex. If you can make a party even out of the awful aftermath, then there's no stopping you and life is one huge long play. You taught me that, Reno."_

_I opened my eyes and looked up. I felt helpless and lost and weak after all that uncontrolled emotion, but somehow she made it safe for me to be that with her. To not say anything except with my moves against her._

_The city lights through the window behind my head illumined her joyful smile down at me. "My fighter. My partner. My Lyrant."_

_I reared up and kissed her._

"She saved me from all this shit," I said to Cloud, as the memory let me go. "And I didn't even notice until she wasn't here to do it anymore." I looked up at those impassive eyes.

He nodded.

"So what did you do? How did you deal with it?" I said.

"I killed a lot of things," he said.

"…Did that help?"

He frowned thoughtfully, leaning back into the couch. "I really don't know."

"Well… you're still here. You're not hooked on Move or fucking random strangers." I heaved a sigh. "…Thing is… fighting doesn't seem to be enough for me."

He shrugged. "You're different."

"So what do I do?"

"What you have to. Just don't hurt you or anyone else. As long as you protect your honor, you'll pretty much be okay."

I absorbed this. "Seems weird, huh? Me asking you for advice."

"I try not to think too much."

"I don't think I can ever stop. Can't even drown out the shit in my head with this constant yapping I do." I stretched out on the floor with a groan, furling the cover around me. I stared at the ceiling. _Bami. I miss you. You made it all go quiet and safe, and I had no idea until you went away and the fucking noise in my head came back. So gradual, you just toned it down, and down, and down. Until everything was still, except for you. You made this bullshit worth it. Now I don't know what to believe in._

Cloud stretched, startling me with his movement. I shot him a narrow-eyed wary look, profoundly annoyed again with his presence.

"Why do you hang around me so much?" I snapped. "I don't need your pity."

He leaned out over his knees, elbows braced on them, fingers laced. He never seemed to wear his gloves anymore. "There are things… you feel… that I never got around to feeling. There was too much going on at the time."

I laughed sardonically, shoving hands behind my head. "What, I grieve louder than you? Or better?"

"Just different," he said. "It helps."

"Will we ever get over them?"

"_No._"

"You sound pretty sure."

He cocked his head at me. "Would you want to, even if you could?"

I writhed. I wished his words weren't so precise and potent, like pins in my guts. "I guess not. This sucks, though."

"It sucks because they matter, and always will. We're their living legacy. As long as we're around we'll always have what they gave to us."

I sat up. "I don't want to live like that! Like a gravestone, or a memorial. I'm not like you! I want to be alive, or else dead, not some carved-out shell or ghost." I glared pointedly at him, realizing the crux of why I hated having him around: _He's what I'm afraid of becoming._

He snorted. "All or nothing."

"Fucking too right!" I reached up to run my hands through my hair. The cover fell off me. My fingers got stuck and I cursed lowly and tried to yank them through. I hissed, enjoying and hating the scalp pain.

"Can you be alive and still honor her memory?"

"I don't know." I tore a few knots out. "My head hurts and you're getting on my nerves. Can you go and come back when I'm less pissed off?"

"So… never?"

I gave up on my hair and glared at him. "You fuck. Don't mock me."

He snickered. "You should see what you look like before you say something like that."

"Oh, I am itching for a fight, _Spiky_, and it may as well be you!" I cracked my knuckles as I rose off the floor.

He stretched thoughtfully. "Why not? Been a while for me too, without the sword."

"Giant steel pile of compensation, you mean."

He chuckled and got off the couch. I backed into the dojo, narrowing my eyes at his moves. My body hummed in anticipation—the hand-to-hand I'd been wanting for months, maybe even years. A chance to prove that he was no better than me without his oversized shiny toy.

We circled warily. I wasn't wearing the best pants for this—for some reason they were falling off me—but I'd had harder handicaps in my time.

His stance was all wrong, I saw that right away. He was off-balance. Not surprising; his swords must weigh a ton. As a Shinra infantryman he must have had unarmed combat training, but for him that was at least one psychotic break ago.

He didn't seem in a rush to begin, and I'd been waiting too long for this, so I took the initiative and threw the first kick. He dodged nicely but didn't throw a return strike like I'd been expecting. He watched me expressionlessly. Drawing me out.

At last he went for me, and when he did, he came on in earnest. I basked in dodging his speedy strong fists and amateurish kicks. He had strong legs but no finesse. Not a dancer by a long shot. I was faster, lighter on my feet, even with my drooping pants threatening to trip me up.

I stayed present through the whole epic thing. Except for our grunts, the strike of flesh on flesh and distant sirens, everything stayed silent. I didn't taunt him. Didn't seem much point, after all my verbal abuse he'd absorbed placidly. It seemed a waste of energy to try to needle him.

I enjoyed the silence. I enjoyed the feelings. I enjoyed every connect of my fists or feet to him, his on me, grapples, dodges, rank smell of sweat, panting, the keen look in his eyes. Even in the absence of a smile I knew he was enjoying this too.

Coursing out of my core came enraged fear at what grief had done to him. Jealousy for his status throbbed through me. Raw sick envy at the way Schala had smiled when she met him, and the dedicated adoration and support of his friends even in the face of his dickish behavior. Resentment for his failures and his successes, and the way he didn't seem to care that the world worshiped him. Frustrated fury at all the effortless ways he trumped me.

I channeled it all into speed and fight. I was challenged by uncharacteristic weakness, and a lack of the Move I'd grown used to relying on. Focus and energy came on with the speed of drunk dying Tonberries instead of motorcycles. In other circumstances it would have been a short fight and I wouldn't have felt so out of breath.

Still, I found my moment, peaking in speed, muscles hanging with lead weights in me, pivoting, grappling, turning, pulling, throwing. He slammed down on the floor with a rattling thud. I dove on his back, pinning him. He writhed and bucked like a Zolom. I hurled my weight down into him and drove him back to the wood. He winced and grunted.

He had lost, but wouldn't give in, panting. After a few minutes he managed to roll me off but I sprang up before he could pin me in return. I got him down again quickly. Victory was in my mouth, as well as a little blood, which just excited me more.

I held him down, sweating on his face, glaring into those blue eyes. The long part of my red hair stuck to his sweaty neck like a gash of blood. He bared his teeth, groaning as he tried to throw me off. I snarled, slamming him back. His eyes squeezed shut at the impact. He gasped for breath. I leaned in, grinning.

"Give up?" I said.

His eyes peeled open a little. He nodded, once. I felt his body go limp under mine. That sensation of his submission rushed through me like lava. I don't remember having a thought or feeling I could identify before I grabbed the back of his neck and heaved my mouth onto his.

He felt so good. He tasted even better. His lips were soft and slippery salty fruit to me, trembling as I kissed and licked them. Heat radiated off him. Even limp beneath me he was alive, so alive, life I felt in my aching, stinging body everywhere he'd bruised and struck me.

It wasn't just that he was hot, some dim corner of my mind connected. He was, no doubt, but I'd found so much of him insufferable. He was nothing I wanted to be but, in that moment, everything I wanted. He understood. And I craved that understanding.

My eyes opened to look down at his utter shock. I grinned, drinking up that too, and licked the curve of his jaw before kissing his neck. The faintest hint of stubble scratched my eager mouth. He stuttered a gasp, pulled his arms up between us and hurled me off with some effort. I rolled as I hit the floor and sprang up as he rose to his feet.

His wide eyes stared at me, reddened lips pressed hard together. He spun and marched over to the couch. With a terrific grunt he hauled it away from the door.

"Hey, c'mon, Cloud…" I said weakly, churning inside, nervous, pleading. "I was only kidding. …Can't you take a joke?"

He wasn't buying it. I don't blame him. In his violent intensity to leave he slammed the door behind him and left all his belongings, including his shoes. I sank down to sit on my heels, curling my arms around my head. Despair swirled through me.

_What have I done? I've chased away the one living person prepared to put up with all my shit…_

I snarled at myself.

_…Well, good, then! I don't need him or his heavy-handed expectations! Fuck, man! I'm Reno! I don't need anybody!_

_I'm not going to fucking cry! Not again! Not ever again! I'm done with this bullshit!_

I slammed my fist into the floor so hard I broke two of my fingers. Splinting them and cursing at the top of my lungs gave me something to do other than think about the searing hot dark past thirty minutes.

I crawled back in bed. I curled around a pillow and the hurt raging and burning in me. I shut my eyes tight and just lay there for sleepless hours struggling for control over everything that had escaped from me.

_No more, no more, no more_, was my mantra. _No more feeling. No more thinking. Pull it together. It's over, she's dead, fuck her anyway. Forget her. Forget it all. You were Reno before her. Be that again. Throw out all that fucking shit she poisoned you with. All those goddamn feelings._

_Forget the past sixteen months of your life. Erase them. Gone._

_No going back._

_Reno of the fucking Turks. That's more than enough for me. You got sloppy, kid, but it ain't too late._


	11. Chapter 11

**_Cloud_**

Cid lit up a cigarette under the stars. What stars we could see, anyway. One of the shipyards in Rocket Town blazed with light, the normal nighttime calm of the place shattered by the sound of heavy-duty machinery and shouting voices. They were behind schedule on one of the WRO's latest carrier prototypes.

Despite this, Cid had taken the night off to host me for dinner, a fact Shera took me aside and thanked me for while he scrubbed the machine oil and filth off in the shower, singing off-key.

"I've been eating alone for almost a month; he comes home when I'm already asleep and leaves before I wake up," she'd told me with a wink. "You should come by more often."

"Y'ain't here on business," said Cid matter-of-factly. "And y'ain't one for social calls. Somethin' I should be worryin' about, Cloud?"

I shook my head. "Just out for a drive. It helps me think."

He snorted and blew a plume of smoke up across the underside of the eaves of his house. "I hear that. Ain't nothing like flyin' clear skies at new moon to make a man think."

I hadn't had a destination in mind. I hadn't connected to my surroundings as I drove. I don't even remember the ferry from Junon, but I must have either taken it or figured out how to drive on water. I only really connected to where I was when Cid called my name out of the fog in my brain. I'd been startled to find I'd put half a planet between me and Reno.

I squinted at shadows of sharp peaks in the distance. Indelible shapes in my mind. Indelible reactions in me to them.

"Gonna go home for a visit?" said Cid, nodding at the view.

"That's not home," I said. "That town is a lie."

The one thing I did remember about my trip was the dreams I had at night growing unbearable and nasty. They curled around my waking thoughts without reserve. I kept flipping back to feelings of helpless horror, remembered screams, heat and electricity and basements and glass tanks.

"Hey, kid. You're startin' to disappear again," said Cid.

I nodded.

"Ya gotta stop that," he said. "Every time you do, the world almost ends. Talk to somebody. Hell, it don't have to be me. Don't even have to be Tifa. You know who's a good listener?"

I tore my eyes from the Nibel mountains and glanced over at him, curious.

"Vincent," he said.

My eyebrows shot up.

"Hand to god, not makin' it up. He don't talk much, almost as hard to get ahold of as you, but he listens to every goddamn word." He grinned and flicked ash away. "Just sayin', Cloud. He ain't got time for bullshit, but he's always got time for you. Ain't no one else in the world who can say that."

"Vincent," I said thoughtfully.

"Give him a buzz. He'll probably answer, seein' as it's you."

"…Yeah. Maybe." I stretched my arms up over my head and yawned. "Thanks again for dinner."

"You okay to drive? Spare bed's made up."

I nodded. "Fresh air'll wake me up. I'm not tired. You take care, Cid."

"You too, Cloud. Get whatever it is worked out before somethin' with silver hair comes to kill us all in our sleep, y'hear?"

I laughed. "Aye aye, Captain."

He flicked his cigarette away and went back inside. I swung on Fenrir, started it up, and headed for shadows of my past.

* * *

I tried to be objective. I tried to be accepting. In my weakest hours I let Zack and Aerith die, and gave the Black Materia to Sephiroth that allowed him to summon Meteor. No matter how big a selfish prick Reno became in his grief I doubted he'd kill anyone I loved or endanger the world, so it was easy to take all his shit in stride.

I did a lot of research on Move while he was on it, what it did to a person chemically and psychologically, and the aftermath of addiction. I came prepared, I thought, for everything he could throw at me.

I speculated having me there to hate might keep him fighting, too. Which is a pretty dirty, manipulative thing to do, but he's a Turk, for fuck's sake. That kind of thing is half his job description. The other half being 'murder and mayhem.'

I'd driven halfway around the world and still had no clue why he reached out to me like that. The man hated me. Everyone knew it. I was surprised he hadn't tried to kill me in the dojo. He wasn't going to hate me substantially more for being the asshole that trapped him in his apartment while he dried out. He even asked me to take the drugs away, and that's when I made my decision to do what needed doing. So no one else would have to.

_What did you want from me? Another warm body to try to erase her memory? To kill your pain and bury her forever? A hate fuck?_

_…That didn't feel like hate._

_And it doesn't explain why three days later I'm still thinking about it. If it was so simple I could have figured it out and stopped caring, right? If it meant nothing, would I know?_

_Was it just because I was there? It's got to be that. He hates me. He'd only do what he did if I was the last person alive._

_…But…_

I winced, wishing I could just forget.

_…Why did I want to kiss him back?_

_Reno-induced insanity. His crazy is catching._

_Just let that be the reason, and let it go._

* * *

I arrived in Nibelheim before dawn. Even before I shut off Fenrir I could hear machinery running. I swung off the bike, in front of the inn, and swiveled to face the sound.

Shinra Mansion.

I strolled with a nonchalance I didn't feel up to the gate. Four Shinra soldiers stood there, two on each side. Which seemed excessive, especially when even more patrolled just beyond the gate, in front of the mansion itself.

It took all my restraint to say, "Morning," to them, when I wanted to turn around, go back to Fenrir, get out my swords and cut a path into the noisy building.

The four of them stood to attention, all eyes on me.

"Sir, this is a sensitive area," said one. "I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave."

"Oh? Why is that?" I said, my voice getting tighter.

"This area is not open to the general public," said a second.

"Is this still a scientific research facility?" I said.

"Please, sir, go about your business," said the first.

My hands were trembling, leather gloves squeaking as my fingers curled into fists. My heart beat so fast. My eyes flicked up at the mansion, overlaid with a collage of dream memories. The past four months of nightmares poured out of the walls. Whatever machines were running, out of sight in the mansion, roared in my ears.

I directed my steely gaze at them. "What is going on in there?"

"If you don't leave, we'll have to take you into custody," said a third soldier. The soldiers inside the perimeter were noticing our terse conversation and moving into a defensive formation. Guns came up from passive grips, not yet pointing at me but able to snap into a dead aim at one wrong move.

Every hesitation told me that whatever was going on in there, it wasn't on the level. As strongly as I wanted to smash into that place, find the truth and avert disaster, I had the presence of mind to realize that I might need help. I backed off. I went for a walk outside of town, away from the hair-raising terror that noise created in me.

I flipped out my PHS and scrolled through the phonebook for a rarely-used number. I held it to my ear and paced.

"Yes?" came a mellifluous, measured voice.

"What is Shinra doing in Nibelheim?" I demanded.

"…Cloud?" said Rufus Shinra.

"There's machinery running in the mansion," I said. "I've never seen so much security here, not even when Zack Fair broke me out. I was just threatened by Shinra soldiers at the gate. What is Shinra _doing_ in _Nibelheim_?!"

"I assure you, the research in Nibelheim is entirely humanitarian in nature and safe," said Rufus. "I give you my word."

I barked a laugh. "Your word? What that's worth. I'd think you'd know better by now. Rufus, If you're doing what I think you're doing, you could be starting the end of the world all over again. And I'm getting a little tired of cleaning up after Shinra's mistakes."

"We would not be so foolish as to try what you are implying. What would we possibly gain from such a scenario?"

"I don't know what your company ever hoped to gain when you continued research with Jenova cells after what happened with Sephiroth, after your father was killed, and after Meteor nearly killed us all. Rufus. Either let me see that you are as good as your word—grant me access to the mansion—or shut this down right now."

"Our research is very sensitive. It cannot be tampered with or shut down or we risk losing years of work. I'm afraid my answer is no. I will look into providing you with our findings…"

I hung up. My head pounded now. I flipped open my phone again and dialed a second never-used number. Cid turned out to be right—it only rang twice before I heard the sound of the line being picked up.

"Vincent," I said. "Cloud."

"Yes," said Vincent.

"Something's going on in Nibelheim," I said. "Rufus isn't talking."

"Rufus doesn't know," he said. "Tseng and I believe that Shinra's science division is conducting genetic experimentation in the basement, falsifying records, destroying evidence and eliminating witnesses."

I gaped. "You… you _knew_ about this? Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I am uncertain as to the nature of the research, even now, or what threat, if any, is posed."

"Better to err on the side of caution! You should have kept all of us in the loop! Does Reeve know?"

"I find I can gather more accurate and valuable information on my own. I enlisted Tseng's help to gain access to records beyond my reach and surreptitiously discover if Rufus had any knowledge of this."

I put my head in my hand, taking a deep, steadying breath. My self-control had been compromised by four months of sleepless nameless fear haunting me each night.

"I am on my way there," he continued, ever calm. "Tseng will shortly follow with a deputation of Turks."

"Oh, that's just what we need," I said sarcastically, then backtracked. "Actually, no, that may be exactly what we need to blow the damn doors off. How soon will you be here?"

"Two hours. Try not to do anything foolish until I arrive." He hung up.

I slammed my phone shut, then thought again and opened it to dial once more.

"Cid, I'm in Nibelheim and something is going on here. How soon can you get here with an airsh…"

A massive explosion cut me off. I ducked and covered instinctively, dropping the phone with a clatter. Light blinded me, wiped the whole world white, and hot air rolled over me with the strength of a tide.

The whiteness winked out just as suddenly. All light, even the lights of the village, had been snuffed. My ears rang. I struggled to my feet, shaking my head. I squinted toward the town, trying to see, straining to regain my hearing. I headed back toward the town cautiously, wishing I'd stopped to grab the fusion sword.

A pinprick of light appeared in the darkness, growing bigger in a hurry—the headlamp of a motorcycle. I had only a moment to dive out of the way before Fenrir screamed past me and off into the night.

"_Shit_!" I gasped. I remembered to grab my phone and ran into town to see if I could find a vehicle and mount pursuit.

False dawn had started to lighten the sky. I saw the front center portion of the mansion had exploded outward, leaving a blackened shell. Most of the perimeter wall had been thrown all across the village, masonry smashing into buildings and windows. Iron gates crumpled like tissue had fetched up on the remains of the central well.

I hotwired the first truck I found and took off across the dawning landscape, eyes and ears peeled for whatever nightmare had just been unleashed on the world.

**_Reno_**

"Good to have you back, partner," Rude said to me. We stood alone on the deck of Rufus's sleek black Shinra One airship. Not the most conducive place for a smoke, but I decided I didn't really care for one anyway.

I grunted in response, leaning on the rail, letting the wind ruffle my hair. All the Turks the director could scrape up and almost an entire battalion of infantrymen filled the hold below. Also a truly obscene amount of explosives.

To my relief Rude didn't seem to want to discuss my return any more than that. I scratched my neck with the tip of my Electro-Mag Rod. Even over the roar of the engines, I heard Tseng's light footfalls crossing the deck to us. I swiveled with a grin, propping my elbows behind me.

"Hey, boss," I said, psyched for an honest-to-god blow-shit-up-and-ask-questions-never old-school Turk mission. I was more than eager to prove myself capable, and this was the perfect first assignment to welcome back Reno of the Turks.

The director, though he wore no expression, moved in a way that betrayed tension.

"What's up?" I said.

"Something has… escaped from the basement of the Shinra mansion," said Tseng. "We do not have information on what, nor where it has gone, nor if it is being tracked. The survivors are remarkably uncooperative. As soon as we land we need to gather as much information as possible from whatever and whoever we find. Sanction with extreme prejudice, you two. Remember, time is of the essence."

I nodded. "My kinda job, sir."

"I've tasked Remora and Hilo with seeking out whatever chemicals you will need in the lab facilities as soon as we arrive," he said. "Godfrey and Nesett will be coordinating with the troops to detain all survivors, for you to review and choose from. We will clear out one of the houses for you to use and provide guards."

I nodded, shouldering my EMR and clasping it in my other hand, behind my neck. "Anything else I need to know, sir?"

"Try not to kill anyone unless it's absolutely vital. We need as much information as possible. We are acting under the assumption that this is a worst-case scenario, although it is hoped that we do not have a fresh incarnation of Sephiroth to deal with." He left then, and I swiveled to look at my partner.

"Looks like the end of the world again," I said. "You up for it?"

He nodded. "You?"

I grinned. "Oh, god yes." I inhaled. Sharp, thin oxygen filled me with a stabbing cold ecstasy. _It's a good day to die…_

**_Tseng_**

"Stop," I said in a voice cold and hard as the gun in my hand, pointed at an orange-haired man in glasses moving toward an industrial shredder. An armload of files were slipping from his grasp. In a swirl of tattered red Vincent brushed past me, his own gun coming up to whiten the pale man even more.

Vincent reached out with his gauntleted arm and plucked the files from the man. With his other hand he shot the shredder, which blew apart in a whirl of machinery and plastic. The man dropped to the floor, whimpering.

"I didn't say you could move," I said conversationally, and shot him in the leg. He screamed as a pair of soldiers burst into the room. I gestured for them to take the stricken man away, holstered my gun and approached where Vincent spread the files out on a desk.

I took half the stack, flipping through. The clawlike fingers of his gauntlet and his dexterity paired perfectly to leaf through his share of the papers. My eyes scanned codes, shorthand, scientific jargon, diagrams, formulae, equations, mechanical blueprints, log entries. Everything was a mess, clearly bundled together in a hasty attempt to erase what remained of the evidence.

He picked up one of the files. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him scanning intently, his frown just visible over the edge of his collar. I closed the gap between us and leaned over to read. A few words jolted through me right away.

"Then this isn't like anything we've seen before," I murmured.

"No," he mused, handing me the file, and began leafing through those underneath.

**_Cloud_**

"No, I still haven't found any sign," I said tiredly into my PHS, sitting on the bed in my villa in Costa del Sol. "No one's seen Fenrir. I think the escapee is avoiding towns, cutting across the countryside. Have you found out anything about what we're dealing with?"

"Yes," said Vincent. "Apparently the subject has been treated with genetic material gathered from Aerith Gainsborough and her mother Ifalna Faremis."

My heart leaped into my mouth. I lifted my head, eyes scanning nothing. "Are… you _sure_ about that?"

"As certain as we can be," he said. "There's additional corroborating evidence to suggest that this is the case, rather than falsified records."

I rose from the bed and paced over to the window. Orange sunset skies outside swam before my fatigued eyes. "Vincent…"

"I would advise you not to leap to any conclusions about the potential benign nature of this being based on this. Genetic material does not produce a personality type based on the original, as you know."

"Of course," I murmured, and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Call me if you find out anything else."

"Likewise." He hung up.

I looked out at the ferry boarding at the dock. I'd been intending to take a moment to compose myself, splash water on my face and then catch the next one. I turned to look at the bed, aware that I hadn't slept in thirty-eight hours. I knew I could push myself further, and had on several occasions.

My heart hung like a weight in my chest as I headed for the bathroom. I'd thought nothing could possibly be worse than finding out that Sephiroth had come back again. But in its own highly personal way, this was just as bad.

I had a nagging feeling that this was what my dreams had been trying to tell me, in a way I had not the insight to understand. I feared I was still missing whatever the message was, the truth about what exactly I was chasing.

**_Reno_**

I offered my pack of cigarettes to the labcoat handcuffed to a chair across the kitchen table from me. He smiled lazily, his eyes nice and dilated for me. The veritanna extract injection had had just enough time to kick in, and I knew a little nicotine would be just the right stimulant to keep that tongue going once I coaxed it to start.

He leaned forward to take the protruding white tube in his mouth. Rude took out his lighter and gave the labcoat a start, then my cigarette as well. Silver metal snicked shut and vanished back inside the immaculate suit of my partner, seated beside me.

I pulled the cig from my lips and blew out a thin stream of smoke. I draped my arms over the back of the chair I straddled. "So, Doctor Redfern," I said. "Looks like you've got a pretty sweet job here. Not everyone in the science division gets assigned to a high-profile project like this one. You must be pretty smart, huh?"

The young Wuteng scientist beamed. "Versatile, too."

I basked in the rightness of my choice. As a vain man myself it didn't take much for me to spot it in others, and boy howdy, do I know how to play on the vanity of others. "Then you must have been pretty damn useful, since this experiment involved all different kinds of science. What was some of the most awesome stuff you did? I'm talking about shit no one else would even think of. Ways that you personally rocked out with your cock out."

He schooled his face into serious humility. "Well, I was just one small part of a very talented team." He cackled so suddenly at this he started coughing. I set aside his cigarette for him.

"Whoo, thanks!" he said. "I nearly got you with that one, didn't I? The others were all morons. Didn't take much to rise above the pack, here. That being said, it was utter genius of me to realize that we could administer alpha-methylbenzeneethanamine—that is, a potent chemical extract from the creatures known as Movers—to the test subject in regular doses to maintain constant consciousness with no lasting physical damage or danger."

_Oh, great, our monster is even more strung out on Move than I was, and hasn't slept in god knows how long_, I thought, keeping my grin in place. "Genius," I said.

He nodded enthusiastically and glanced hopefully at the cigarette, which I replaced in his lips. He sucked and then struggled futilely to make smoke rings with the half his mouth not clenching the cig. I waited.

"This," he continued at last, "coupled with the devices I designed to be built into the holding capsule that would inflict continual physical damage on the subject, meant that the Lifestream that healed her was kept in a constant flow in perpetuity and enabled us to harness it as a source of infinitely sustainable energy."

I felt like I'd been driving along and the earth had opened up below me. As I free-fell into dark utter surprise he kept talking:

"We were able to power the entire town, including the machinery inducing and harvesting the Lifestream energy from the test subject. Had she not escaped we could have moved into Phase Beta, and created enough clones to power the entire world."

I sat very still. I rewound over everything he'd just said and played it again, cold as ice inside. My brain had had trouble actually focusing on the last couple of sentences, meaning I had to backtrack and try again to realize everything from the top. Without breaking my cool exterior even enough to let my mouth fall open. Everything outside his self-satisfied and so-punchable smirk faded into unimportance.

I gathered my fraying thoughts and managed to put together, at length, one question to try to confirm what I hoped and dreaded was true: "I'm just… dying to know:" I laughed with involuntary harshness, "how did you labcoats convince everyone she was dead?"

He cackled. "Oh, please! That was the easiest of all! Surgically altered a body, sabotaged the airship."

Rude inhaled sharply beside me. My veins pumped fire. My fingers tightened involuntarily on the chair rungs, starving to feel Redfern's windpipe collapsing between them. I rose to my feet, ignoring the doctor's idiotic grin that followed me. I looked at Rude, jerked my head at the door.

I stretched as I headed out, all my muscles flaring to life. We stepped out into the front hall of the empty house we were using. Guards stood on either side of the door. I had to contain a Mako reactor's worth of sheer blinding murderous rage inside me enough to turn and speak quietly to my partner.

Fortunately, it was in my job description to make sure the son of a bitch in the room behind me lived for as long as possible. _At least four months_, I thought. _Only fair._ I didn't have a whole lot of tools on me, but he was in a goddamn kitchen—I could find no end of inventive things in there to use.

"Call the director and Cloud," I said. "Tell them it's Schala. I'm going to continue this _fascinating_ conversation with my new friend." Without waiting for a response I pushed back into the room.

Doctor Redfern looked up with that asinine smirk.

I grinned back, my heart pounding, and shut the door behind me.

**_Cloud_**

I woke with a jolt and snatched up my ringing PHS.

"Yeah?" I said muzzily into it, disoriented.

"It's Rude," said Rude, sounding odd.

"Mm." I rubbed at my aching eyes. Shell-like opalescent walls surrounded me. I'd spent the last three days searching the Forgotten City, which remained deserted as ever but for my inexplicable bike parked neatly by that fateful pool. I went to bed so tired and bewildered each night I hadn't remembered my dreams. Or else hadn't had any.

"Schala was the test subject," he said.

My eyes flew open. In the silence I thought I heard screaming in the background on Rude's end. "…What?"

"They planted a fake body and sabotaged the _Elmyra_," said Rude. "For the past four months they've been injecting her with Cetran cells, keeping her awake, and torturing her in order to make the Lifestream constantly flow through her and power Nibelheim."

It definitely sounded like shrill muffled screams of pain on his end. I scrambled up, went to the window, and looked down at Fenrir.

"She…" a particularly sharp cry interrupted him, "…she may have Mako poisoning. Have you seen or heard anything?"

I shook my head in horrified disbelief. "No," I said quietly.

"Call me as soon as you do. Or Reno."

I hissed in a breath, wincing. "…Reno. Is he…?"

"He's talking to one of the doctors that did this."

I heard the screams in stunning clarity then. "_Oh._"

He hung up.

I closed my phone in slow, numb motion. I spiraled around the shell house and came out to the pool's edge. I knelt down and touched the water, letting it run through my fingers. Nothing could wash away my sense of failure.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I didn't understand what you were trying to tell me. …Please… help me find her."

**_Reno_**

I stared at a dark ceiling, at clouds of icy breath dissipating in the air. I rolled over for the millionth time and stared across the room. I heard Rude's snoring through the wall. In my memory I could hear Doctor Redfern wailing, cut off when the director had walked in and put a bullet in the labcoat's skull.

I'd raged at Tseng. He took my yelling without so much as a blink and directed me to a chopper waiting outside, to search the planet for her.

It was a good strategy, reflecting on it, although I didn't like it. There was not likely to be an end to what I wanted to do to Doctor Redfern, not to mention all the rest of the labcoats in town, regardless of whether they'd participated hands-on in the experiments or if they'd just watched. Or known about it. Or even helped facilitate what had happened in an indirect, administrative way.

I wanted to burn the goddamn mansion to the ground.

The director had deftly steered my fury into a potentially more useful channel. So I lay on a bed in Icicle Inn, twitching, wretched, washed clean of the doctor's blood but not my guilt. Not guilt for what I'd done to that sick fuck, of course; but for not knowing, not guessing, not finding out the truth.

_How could I have known?_

I writhed in the bed, dragging pillows and covers around me, getting them twisted, panicking and flinging them off. I then nearly froze in the chill air and gathered them all back to begin again. A spastic flower of shame, blooming and dying over and over.

Those failed missions haunted me. Missions I now realized were tied to the investigation of what had been going on in Nibelheim. The records I hadn't found. The man who'd died in Junon on that last shitty mission with Elena. The other one I missed my meeting with months earlier, who perhaps could have straight-up told me, 'Your girlfriend's alive, and being tortured day and night sealed in a coffin-sized capsule in a basement in Nibelheim to power a bunch of toasters and lamps.'

"RRRR!" I snarled, throwing a pillow at the wall. I curled my hands over my face.

_She's never going to forgive me. Assuming she's even still sane, or ever will be again. Assuming we ever find her. Assuming she's still alive when we do._

_Schala, please, for the love of Holy, please help me find you… let me see your face again._


End file.
